


NoBody But You

by MistyBeethoven



Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [67]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: A Pornographic Sci-Fi Action Romance, Acceptance, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Aging, Anal Sex, Arrangements, BBW, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Badlands, Bars and Pubs, Beauty - Freeform, Braindance, Campfires, Car Chases, Car Sex, Companions, Corporations, Cunnilingus, Cybernetics, Cyberpunk, Decisions, Deserts, Difficult Decisions, F/M, Falling In Love, Finger Sucking, Fire, Fisting, For Adults Only, Future Fic, Hidden laboratory, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecurity, Kissing, LeSade, Loss of Virginity, Lost Love, Love, Love Stories, Morning Sex, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Overweight, Plane wrecks, Poorly written car fight, Porsches, Post-Apocalypse, Quests, Repayment, Rimming, Science Fiction, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Sex From Behind, Silver Fisting, Singing, Traveling, Undressing, Vaginal Fisting, Vampire Bites, Vampires, Virginity, Voyeurism, Weight Issues, body acceptance, chase - Freeform, desert sex, fuck buddies, self worth, sex slaves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26149810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven
Summary: Being sent into the Badlands as a decoy by my superior at Arasaka, Susan Abernathy, I find myself being chased by three hungry and perverted Wraiths escorts. I soon discover that the building I have run into for shelter contains a secret laboratory where the body of legendary Rockerboy Johnny Silverhand is being kept in stasis. Reviving the man to help me, I soon find myself being dragged on Johnny's mission to find the cyberghost of his dead love Alt Cunningham, all the while becoming the Rockerboy's sex slave in order to repay his having saved me. It is a journey which takes us back to Night City where we encounter several of Silverhand's old friends and enemies and finds me falling in love with my not completely admirable companion.A painful past having made me forego cybernetics, bodysculpting or body modifications of any type, I soon find myself faced with a difficult decision, however, when Johnny offers me a chance to be with him forever...Just a pornographic, sci-fi, action, romance about a cybernetic Rockerboy and his BBW Collargirl companion.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Alt Cunningham, Johnny Silverhand/Me, Johnny Silverhand/Rogue, Kerry Eurodyne & Johnny Silverhand, Kerry Eurodyne & Me, Rogue & Me, Rogue/Nomad Santiago, Susan Abernathy & Me
Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [67]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589944
Comments: 24
Kudos: 36





	1. Rockerboy in a Tank

**Author's Note:**

> Another Johnny Silverhand entry for this series...
> 
> This is going out on a limb. I don't like writing stories without being sure of the full background or canon plot. I can't with this. But I liked the idea too much to just let it slip by...
> 
> So we will see how it turns out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceived by Arasaka, I find help in the strangest of places...

The sound of the three Wraiths shouts and rude calls, several feet behind me, suprisingly did not bounce off the walls of the seemingly deserted and derelict old building in the southside of the Badlands. Bounce hinted at something soft and weilding, unwilling to hurt or be hurt. The small group of Raffen Shiv the Arasaka Corporation had foolishly believed would escort me through the Badlands possessed nothing deemed so tender or relenting. Their edges were razor blades; their bodies nothing less than finely toned muscles as rock hard as the cocks they were chasing me down with. No, their cries became bullets, ricocheting off of dusty old, crumbling walls, hitting my soul with the force of the hands they wanted to clench around my throat.

"Why'd the company send us a fat, ranyon collargirl this time?" one of the men, a short mohawked male in his late teens, asked his companions, making sure the insult was loud enough to reach me as I went scurrying ahead, my high heels making their own loud clatter.

"Because the bitch is a decoy, WartApple. Arasaka's up to more serious shit than just a routine visit to a protein farm. We just got the short stick this time. A short, fat stick with a nice ass though we can enjoy it while Dogkiller's out finding out what the Corp is really up to," the taller, twenty something Wraith with the shaved tatooed head replied.

"Linefoot looks real tasty, Banger," the final nomad Susan Abernathy had pretended to entrust me with remarked hungrily. "Lots of meat, at least, for when we've finished basting her, all inside and out."

This set off a fit of mad laughter between them all and added speed to my steps, having kicked off the heels, not wanting to be made into their joygirl before they turned me into their feast. Coming in contact with the debris on the ground, rusted nails and old wood, glass and thistles from mutated desert plants (having blown in because there was no longer a front wall to the building) my feet soon began to bleed all over the floor and all I could manage in terms of gratitude towards the corpo I worked for was that they had given me my shots before sending me off into Hell.

The corridor of the dilapidated structure I had chosen for my escape, if only because it was the only one available, offered many rooms, the doors torn off, trying to entice me into them to hide. It was the door at the far end which interested me the most, however, for it still possessed a strong looking one that could buy me time. Assuming it wasn't already locked. Reaching it, I thanked God that it opened when I pulled the lever, grateful that the building was so out of date and unimportant that it had not been made technical yet, where only a SID (subcutaneous identification device) would have granted me access. I shut the door firmly, seeing the image of the three Wraiths turning the corner, WartApple, leering at me from around the wall. My luck extended as far as the door opening, however. There was no lock on the other side either. In a last attempt at survival, I took a wedge of wood, probably once used as a doorstopper, and wedged it forcefully under the blasted door, hoping to buy some time. Backing away from it, hearing my hunters drawing near, I backed up foolishly. My foot met thin air, telling my brain that the doorway had only led me to the stairway to the basement. It was too late for my body to do anything about it and as my chubby, pink-suited body fell down the stairs, my only real thought was that I hoped I'd be dead by the end of my journey so I would not have to face the prospect of being raped and then eaten. I didn't find my luck any improved when I reached the bottom step, though, and found myself alive and straddling the dead body of a man in a white lab coat. His face had been chewed up by rodents or bugs while his eyes had been eaten sometime ago; he stared at me with empty holes and a mouth that seemed to be screaming at a death that had probably claimed him months before. My own hand clamped around my mouth, stifling a mirrored scream from escaping my own more functional mouth. Rolling off from him, I scrambled to my feet, hearing the Raffen Shiv, banging on the door above be, trying to get at their bit of afternoon delight and lunch all rolled in to one frightened, little butterball.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I stated, looking behind me at the door which was obviously electronic and required some type of pass. Used to different security systems from my education and position at Arasaka, I placed it as an older model, one hopefully requiring only a seed. Chewing on my bottom lip as something once had at the labcoat, I quickly looked to his hands and sighed in relief, seeing them still clad in dirty but intact gloves made of latex. As I went to pull them off from the corpse's hands, they crumbled and I said another fuck as I dragged the man towards the screen. Hitting the button a voice told me to place my thumb on it. In compliance, I offered the computer the deadman's thumb, where the small circuit board had been mounted, and then dropped him to the ground as the doors opened about the same time as the one at the top of the flight of stairs did the same. I should have dragged the dead scientist in with me, I knew, but time mattered more. Even if the Wraiths figured out the same way to enter the sealed room, I would still have been granted enough of it to look for a weapon to kill either them or myself with.

The door slid shut behind me and I walked into a dark room containing several huge, upright tanks large enough to contain a body each. I knew they were because there were several bodies floating around inside the greenish glowing liquid filling them. The bodies in stasis varied. There was a woman in her sixties, a child around the age of ten, a man at the end of his twenties and another figure whose face was obscured by his long dark hair, floating like seaweed over his face. He had a nice body though, strong, muscular and part cybernetic. It was on full display since he was completely naked, his nice cock and balls trying to distract me from my war between survival and suicide.

On a gurney by the man's tank, I saw the one thing I had been hoping to find, offered right before me: a gun. Rushing towards it, I quickly discovered that, like most things in life, there was a catch to one of fate's gift.

The gun was a Malorian Arm 3516.

A gun specifically designed by an arms manufactuer named Eran Malour for the lead singer of the Samurai: the Rockerboy of Rebellion himself, Johnny Silverhand. Having been designed for the man, whom had infamously waged war on my employing company, it was built with some very specific requirements: interface plugs, a smartgun link and a cyberarm.

None of which I had.

Looking at the weapon, I had never regretted the fact that I had never chipped in or cybered up more in my life. I was 100% biological and therefore unable to use it. I brought my perfectly normal hand to my sweat covered forehead and mumbled one word.

"Figures."

It was my inability and outright refusal to be anything other than that which I was that had led me to the Badlands in the first place.

* * *

_**Arasaka Tower. Night City.** _

_**About a Week Before...** _

Staring out the large window of my superior's office, I gazed at a large motion billboard far off in the heart of Night City.

The City on the Edge of Tomorrow.

It kept proclaiming this while some beautiful Geisha shone her beauty over that same supposed city with a bright glare that would make you blind if you stared at it for too long. From the tops of the buildings in Corpo Plaza you could be fooled into believing her claim, for they were reaching towards Heaven where the Angels were rumoured to exist and take missions for mere mortals if the eddies were right. I hadn't always been on towers reaching for such places however, but had experienced Night City from the bottom up. If I had not been a SINner I never would have been afforded this glimpse, but that one number, gotten for me by a fiercely protective mother of a hen, had opened the doorways to education and opportunities, right straight to a position at Arasaka, where I had been serving quietly until a woman named Susan Abernathy, had called me in to see her one night, the only hours I had been given. The office was empty and dark and I walked to the window, the lights outside in the night sky of a Night City calling me like a flame will lead a moth to its death.

"The City on the Edge of Tomorrow?" I said to myself. "More like The City Built on Dead Yesterdays."

"How's that, Miss Smyth?" a voice cut through the darkness and another light entered the room, this one sitting on the Director of Special Operation's sleek desk. I noted her black suit, the type we all were forced to wear at Arasaka.

Turning back to the window, I, without wanting to, caught a glimpse of my own reflection. A woman whom looked younger than her years but was overweight and in no way able to compete with the bodysculpted individuals running throughout the city these days. With the Juvies and Yogangs, I was becoming as outdated as last year's software. And I wasn't looking for an upgrade.

"Richard Night started Night City. It's named after him but he wanted to call it Coranado City, after the location, instead. He wanted it to be a Utopia but then the Corpos wanted what he was making. Night wound up dead and we wound up with Night City. Named after him in tribute but just another insult to go along with the _joke_ we made of his paradise."

"If I wanted a history lesson, I would go back to school. That's all it is: grade school text book crap," Abernathy stated.

"Why'd you call me here?"

"There's a dire mission we need a special kind of employee for," the woman informed. "Out in the Badlands. One of our protein farms has had trouble rebooting its computer system. Potentially billions of files dating back close to twenty-five years might become lost and we need an employee with a certain know how and qualification to get the program up and running again."

"I thought Biotechnica manage all of the protein farms."

Abernathy leaned forward across her desk. "Now _do_ they?" she asked. "Are you _sure_ about that?"

I flinched for a second, unsure of how to reply. Moving in on another corporation's turf wasn't beneath Arasaka. But why they would choose to start with a protein farm out in the middle of the Badlands, with its warring nomads, particularly the one raginb between the Aldecados and the terrifying Raffen Shiv's, the Wraiths, was particularly odd.

"We're prepared to give you one hundred times worth the eddies you make in a year if you accept the mission."

Now that had caught my attention, not from greed but from the basic urge of survival. If I had that many eddies I could afford better security and be assured better SCOP than I was currently getting. Still, there were several things bothering me about the whole deal. "What's so special about me?" I asked.

"Chippin' in, as Johnny Silverhand once sang before losing his mind: you haven't done it yet. Our contacts at the protein farm tell us that the programmining might have become sentient and is revolting against netrunners. We need a more old-fashioned, archaic attempt made to correct matters. Your files state you majored in the history and fuctioning of outdated technology. More importantly, you have obviously chosen to abstain from body modification of any kind, biologically or technologically based.," her eyes roamed from my head down to the black shoes which matched my black suit, all on my perfectly normal and therefore perfectly _undesirable_ body.

"So it involves me going out, seeing if I can fix the main computer at Arasaka's illegal protein farm and coming back? That's it?"

"Yes," the corpo scumbag said, leaning back in her chair. "Next week you'll have a group of mercenary nomads take you out there and then bring you back. By the way, you'll wear a pink suit so that they don't know you're with us. It's as much for your safety as the company's, I assure you."

With all of that money as incentive, I found myself nodding my agreement without answering the question I should have been asking.

When does a big, dirtyhanded corpo like Arasaka give a lowly collargirl, like myself, that many eddies for fooling around with a malfuctioning computer?

When they know, beyond a single doubt, that she isn't coming back.

I should have run when I saw the three men sent to take me to the south side of the Badlands. They were the type of men that you wouldn't even find spending their time at the Afterlife in Hades because it would be too much like Sunday School for them. Still, I slid into the ramped up, corvette, repainted several times and cannibalized with some other vehicles during its bloody existence, some of that fluid smeared across the hood. But, like a gonk, I reasoned if the company was paying me that much, it was paying them well enough to keep their hands off of me while they kept me alive.

Abernathy did not send me off but sent one of her bodyguards to do so instead. Talk around the office claimed she had become paranoid of someone stealing her job via assassination after her promotion to Special Operations. The goon didn't offer me so much as a goodbye but only shoved me in the car and headed back into the tower.

"Hello," the bald headed driver greeted. "Arasaka didn't warn us the transport was a lardo. Should have paid us extra by reason of added weight."

With that insult, he pulled out onto the road, his tires screeching and earning the frightful gaze of everybody they passed and whom saw the skeleton logo of the Wraiths emblazoned on the hood, along with the blood.

"I'm Banger," the driver stated as the border of the city drew closer and the smell of the Badlands grew stronger. "My two mates in the back are WartApple and Drank. WartApple's the runt; Drank's the one with the cyber nose."

I had looked back at them but only for a moment, seeing two faces in the darkness leering back at me. "Hello," I said. "Thanks for coming with me to the Badlands."

They burst into laughter regarding my politeness in the back seat, which I took as a bad omen. About an hour after having reached the Badlands and having endured tasteless story after tasteless story, WartApple had finally climbed into the front seat. All the dirty jokes had obviously aroused him and his joystick looked as hard as the driver's stick shift. Afraid he would place himself between me and the passenger's door, I slid to it first, causing the man, whom I now saw was still in his teens, to curse in unashamed anger. My hand grabbed the door handle in ready preparation.

"No need to back away," he said, trying to grab ahold of me from behind. "Just want to see what you've got there."

One of his hands crept to the white shirt of my pink suit, while the other crept up the skirt. He managed to unbutton the top button before I pushed him away from me. WartApple fell into Banger and the car swerved for a moment as the elder Wraith lost control of the wheel.

"Fucking waste of putrid flesh!" Banger screamed.

"Arse wipe, yell at her not at me!" the small Wraith screamed.

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I _WAS_ YELLING AT!" the other man screamed back.

Drank reached out for me from behind in the backseat and I leaned out of the way, glad I had worn my brown-auburn hair up in a bun. "We take her now, Bang?"

"Why not?" Banger said, hitting the breaks.

His action was ill thought out and we all went jerking forward as his choice to suddenly stop the car went at odds with the speed with which he had been driving it. It did, however, give me the blessed opportunity to open the car door and fall out. Rising to my feet, I ran towards the structure missing a front wall, several feet ahead in the distance.

* * *

Staring at the gun, in the secret lab hidden inside the building I had run into, everything became painfully clear. The pink suit I was wearing had been enforced so that they need not worry that anyone would finger me as belonging to Arasaka when they found what was left of my remains. My lack of plug ins and cyberware helped to further my vulnerability and my hoped for demise. I was nothing more than a decoy as the Wraiths had surmised: a flatlined dead duck.

Beside the gun, I finally realized that there was a scalpel. All I needed to do was bring it to my throat and slit it from ear to ear. Suicide seemed the safer choice than foolishly choosing to live and face the men whom were already entering the lab. Banger, WartApple and Drank slowly walked into the room. From the eldest's right hand, I saw dangling the severed hand of the labcoat while in his other hand he held a butcher's knife.

"Meffle, it's time to pay up," he said with a smile.

I looked between the scalpel in my hand and the gun and knew I had to choose at last between whom would be given the honor of killing me. Turning to look behind me, my eyes came to rest on the cybernetic arm of the tall, dark, muscular man in the last tank and how it would fit the Malorian 3516 perfectly.

Beside this one last hope, the idea which came to me provided one added comfort.

There was a saying that when you died you did it all alone.

I wanted to have some company when I went.

Letting out a loud scream, I rolled the gurney at full speed and with my full weight in the direction of the cybernetically modified man in tank #4. As it hit the glass of the standing tank, I feared it would be shatter proof and I'd simply bounce back and in the direction of the Wraiths, not possessing their sharpness. With relief, I saw the glass fall into a thousand pieces from the impact and the green, mysterious liquid come falling out in a wave. The man's hair no longer having its fluid to float around in, it fell wet and flat against his face and everyone in the room was given, at last, a good unobstructed view of his face, the eyes of whom had opened up in dark fury, staring around the room in confused anger.

"Bloody fucking...no..." Banger said, being old enough to recognize him.

"Who?" WartApple asked.

"That's Johnny..." Drank was saying.

I ignored him, seizing their confusion to place the firearm in the famous silver hand and initiating its locking safely in place. I looked up to see the man looking down at me as if I had just unknowingly violated him, until something in my pleading, wide eyes stopped the rage directed at me. "Please..." I begged. "Please _help_ me."

Without any more coaxing, the man walked out of his tank, pulling free from the wires placed on his body, his naked flesh still glistening from the liquid which had been helping him survive in stasis for who knew how many years. Backing away, I slipped in the ooze and fell on my ass. Getting to my hands and knees, I crawled forward to wrap my arms around my hero's left leg. The cybernetic arm was outstretched and aimed in the direction of each Wraiths member. The gun was fired three times, in three consecutive seconds and each bullet found its way between the three Raffen Shiv's eyes with perfect precision. Their bodies fell to the floor, the last sound of violence they would ever make.

Instinctively, in gratitude, I kissed the flesh of the leg pressed next to my cheek, it tasted of strange and foreign compounds, and then looked up into the familiar face of a long lost legend. The Rockerboy stared down at me, his confusion and anger having returned now that he had no one left to kill.

At least, I hoped he didn't.

"Who the Hell are you, Tweety Bird?" he asked.

"Erin...Erin Smyth," I replied. "Handle, Zoya. You're Johnny Silverhand..."

"Yeah, I am," he replied with a cocky grin before bringing his famous, guitar playing, gun shooting cybernetic hand down on my head and knocking me unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go see Bill and Ted Face the Music! Please and thank you! :D <3


	2. Water in the Desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny Silverhand and I leave the hidden lab, while I keep my connection to Arasaka hidden from the Rockerboy and he decides on the price for having saved me from the Wraiths.

When blackness rolled to gray and then suddenly a light so bright my eyes needed time to refocus, I found myself lying stomach down on the floor of the hidden lab, where I had broken Johnny Silverhand free from his cyrogenic tank in order to bring me salvation. The stomach in question was not flat nor deemed beautiful by a society that had turned to body sculpting to make most other women's like it (when the feederism or BBW fetish wasn't there, of course) obsolete. It was also very naked now and as I struggled to regain my consciousness I realized that the entire pink suit I had been wearing was gone also and the only thing I was currently wearing was whatever piece of rope, or similarly purposed piece of material, the Rockerboy had found to tie me up with. I wriggled my hands and touched my feet, realizing my wrists and ankles had been tied together to restrain me. Both were losing feeling at a rapid pace and I realized that I must have been bound shortly before coming to. Johnny Silverhand had stripped me before that. Even my hair was now free from the pins and ties I had used to keep it up and in place, a long curly mess, lying on smooth, milky shoulders.

My eyes now completely free from fog or sand, I watched as a pair of black shoes walked towards me and the man in them squated down so that I wouldn't need to strain my neck in order to look too far up into his famous face. The man formerly known as Robert John Under, but these days recognized even outside of Night City as Johnny Silverhand, stared down at me in bemusement. Silverhand, frontman of Samurai, hater of big corpos, lover of many, but in particular the beautifully enhanced Alteria Cunningham, a genius netruuner whose own creation, Soulkiller, would lead to her death by Arasaka.

The same company I now worked for.

The company he had sworn to destroy.

While I had been out, he had trussed me up like a calf and even managed to dress himself in pieces of the Wraiths he had murdered's clothing. He looked still as sexy as in his posters (though I'd miss his junk being on constant display) despite supposedly being over one hundred years old. It was amazing what years spent in a vat of green ooze could do, I thought with a trace of sadness; I could not share that same ageless experience or a pursuit towards beauty as Alt had done. I would grow old and die but, at least, I would be me.

"Glad to see those big eyes again, Tweety Bird," Johnny stated.

"My name is Erin," I snapped. "Handle: Zoya. I already told you that!"

Johnny Silverhand smirked. "Well to me you're a Tweety Bird, Erin. Deal with it. Zoya...what the Hell does that even mean?"

"It's Russian for Life," I stated. "My mother read a book one summer with that title. I always..."

Uninterested, Johnny interrupted by saying, "Well you're about to lose your own if you don't give me answers that won't piss me off too badly and that I can easily swallow."

My survival instinct kicked in full gear knowing that Johnny loathed the Arasaka corp. Even though years had passed since he had dissappeared and I was nothing but a mere expendable collargirl on the very lowest rung, I doubted that would negate the man's wrath if he found out just whom had sent me out to the Badlands to be raped, slaughtered and digested. Silverhand's temper was well known and self-dictated in his own songbook. I was praying to God that I could lie well enough to get back to Night City and away from my savior's company before he flatlined me himself.

"You have no cyberware, cybernetics or modifications anywhere on your body. Certainly no body sculpting," he started off his interrogation. "How come?"

Outrage flashed through me then knowing now the reason and extent to why I had been stripped and what he had been doing with my unconscious naked body. I felt humiliated and violated and couldn't help but voice this more than worry about giving a believable enough reply. "Stupid fucking bakebrain!" I spat at him. "Gonk! CHOOB!"

The man held up his hands. "I was just protecting myself. You can never tell what ware or weapons somebody has on them until you look."

I didn't quite like the way his eyes went to my lower half. Images of him checking between my legs and what he had found there, that thin white layer with a usually short life span in this century. If he saw my whimple, so nicknamed for the shade and the association with a nun's sex life, my embarrassment was ramped up a few notches. Having a long supposed rock legend know I was a virgin wasn't as bad as being assaulted and eaten by the Wraiths but it was no picnic either.

The man's gaze returned to my eyes, now probably three times as large as normal and frightened, and something like shame and guilt flooded his own small, brown ones. The emotions looked about as foreign inside of them as a chapel would have looked constructed inside of Arasaka tower. In retaliation, Silverhand did what most people do when confronted with the knowledge they had done something wrong:

He defended himself by blaming my own lack of innocence.

"You had no identification either, skirt," he accused. "That stinks as bad as the Samurai bus after touring for a few months. Care to make excuses or should I add your corpse to your friends?"

Still frightened and offended, I heard myself handing the man a deception close enough to the truth to make it all seem credible. "I was sent by an Agricorp called Bioteka to check on a broken computer system at an illegal protein farm in the Badlands. They demanded I go without identification so that if I was apprehended along the way nobody would locate their farm. I don't believe in cyberware, body sculpting or transhumanism; having none was integral to the mission. I also possess an extensive knowledge in outdated software and technology. Bioteka was braindead enough to hire those three Raffen Shiv to escort me to my destination. The three of them got too horny and hungry after seeing my tits and size to complete the journey. In the south Badlands, I jumped from the car and stumbled into this building. That's where you came into it Johnny Silverhand."

The man smiled. "You know me. I read the release date on the tank over there: 2077. Nice to see I'm still recognized after all this time."

I smirked up at him, enjoying what I was about to say. "Actually I thought Kerry Eurodyne was the best thing Samurai had going for it. His solo work rocked. Your stuff should have been played in Arasaka elevators."

The way Johnny Silverhand's expression fell, I would be suprised if Samurai's other leading bandmate didn't hear it all the way back to his villa in North Oak. The guitarist picked it up quickly again, rising to his feet to stare down at me and remind my tied up fat girl self that I was in no position to tick him off. "Hell of a way to show gratitude to the one who saved that nice big ass of yours. We still have to discuss payment for that, Tweety. How much eurodollars you get paid for this gig?"

I winced. "I was to get paid afterwards."

"Maybe you should rethink that choice of swearing off cyberware. You could do with an intelligence upgrade," he brutally remarked paying me back for the earlier insult to his musical career.

However, something about my story had satisfied him and I watched as he cut me free using one of the edges on his cybernetic arm. I immediately sat up, holding my legs infront of my body as a shield while Johnny went and kicked my clothing, lying in a pink pile three feet away, over in my direction.

Cautiously, I grabbed them, while still trying to cover myself. Glancing upward, my eyes darted instantly back to the Rockerboy whom was watching me in amusement. "I've seen it all before, don't bother being modest. You ain't too skat."

" _Thanks_ ," I muttered.

"No problem," he said, disregarding my sarcasm. After a few seconds, the man returned to the topic of funds. "So you have no eddies saved up?"

I looked up at him, halfway through with buttoning up my white shirt. I tried to arch a brow wrly but only half managed it. "What? Are we short on eurodollars these days and need to turn solo? Don't worry, your royalties have been building up for over fifty years. You'll survive."

"And Universal has probably run through them all by now," he commented. "I need eddies if I plan on taking on Arasaka and finding Alt's cyberghost but this isn't about that alone...this is about you owing me, Tweety. You have a responsibility and it is my _duty_ to make sure you tend to it."

I had finished putting my arms into my pink jacket and had grabbed my pair of black lace underwear, slipping them on my chubby but not exactly repulsive legs. "Well if you need help with outdated tech, I'm your woman, although you, yourself, are ranyon enough as it is."

He laughed, looking at my plump, round thighs "Not too old but, yeah, possibly overused," he said, his eyes still lingering on my white, creamy skin and the panties now hiding my crotch from his view. "Don't worry about payment just now, Tweetheart. I know we'll find a way soon enough."

* * *

Dressed now, we both searched the lab for anything we could use once we headed out to the Badlands. Johnny had asked if there was any way to update him or the lab's comps and go online.

"You've been out for a while," I informed him. "The net is only available in certain areas now. Everything else died with Rache Bartmoss."

He looked pissed off but it was just as well. I didn't want to risk him searching for me and finding my name on Arasaka's payroll. Not that they wouldn't have removed all trace of me already.

Suprisingly the leader of the Samurai found some of his old clothing mended, washed and folded safely away in a cupboard. He looked cocky when they still fit him and walked around confidently and with the same rock and roll swagger he was famous for. "Suprised these look this good after what Adam Smasher did to me last time. They must have been keeping me here for some reason and then thought it just better if I floated in a tank for the rest of eternity."

He turned around to find me tying my hair up again and swore in his deep, rough voice. "It looks good down."

"It will stay out of my eyes better _up_ ," I argued, continuing the search.

Johnny had already collected all the weapons from the three dead men and seeing the small artillery and rape tools they had been packing I felt my gratitude flare a bit more towards the Rockerboy and thought that I should probably repay him, after all. As long as the price wasn't _too_ steep. Johnny found some more guns, ones even I could use, some kibble and some blankets. "It gets cold out there at night," he stated, stuffing some matches into his tight leather pants pocket. "We'll need to keep warm."

"Got anything for the stink?" I asked.

"How about you let me put my face between your legs and use your pussy for a mask?" Johnny Silverhand suggested, looking at me as if he had just said something incredibly charming.

I rolled my eyes. "Mr. Rockerboy, I think your brain is still half in the tank. Save your juvenile flattery until the other half of it shows up."

"I was being serious," Johnny stated. "You're pretty clean down there too...in all ways. Cleaner than most things in this stinkin' world."

I stopped, knowing he was referring to my virginity. I turned and eyed him. "Maybe. But while your getting your fresh air from my cunt, how am I suppose to get any? Sucking on a cock that's probably seen more cunt and ass than a Mr. Studd? That is, if your groupies' biogs are to be believed. I'll take my chances with the Badlands pollution."

"Ohhhhouch," the man replied in false hurt. "I almost wish you worked for Arasaka. Then I could stop your screamer and not feel so guilty about it. Tell me, though...did the girls really write biographies about me?"

"Yeah," I said, pulling open a drawer.

"Did they say I was any good?"

"The best," I said, averting my eyes and hoping he didn't see me blushing.

"I won't sue 'em then," Johnny Silverhand said compassionately as he returned to his pillaging.

* * *

Outside the lab, carrying only the clothes on our backs and what was necessary, water being horribly elusive, Johnny Silverhand and I began our journey of leaving the Badlands. He let me carry quite a lot, seeing me as half pack horse, I took it, and I looked in relief at the Wraiths car as we passed it, hoping the man would notice it too. In shock, I watched him pass it by with not so much as a glance.

"Can't you hotwire it or something?"

"Yeah," he replied. "But that would only call attention to us. Odds are the Wraiths leader will notice them gone soon and go looking for some familial justice. More just to show how bigger his dick is than his followers, most likely.

"Fuck," I moaned, reshifting the heavy bag on my back.

We walked until the sky began to darken, the smell of the Badlands infiltrating my nostrils by that point and making me sick. I watched the Rockerboy, on the other hand, walking forward as if he couldn't smell anything or possessed one of the new model chrome noses which altered the air to smell like any substance you wanted. Possibly even my cunt. I dropped my bag in relief when he told me we were setting up camp for the night. The first thing I did, as I collapsed on the ground beside it, was take off the high heels I had found and reworn, while we were leaving the building. I broke off the heels in frustration and earned Johnny turning around to glare at me with the same look he had offered when I had tied my hair back up. I pointed the remaining tip of one shoe at him. "You like 'em so much, you try wearing them."

"They aren't my size, Tweety," he replied, never short on a retort.

He took care of setting up the fire and when I asked him if that would draw attention to us, or possibly set the air ablaze from all the potentially toxic fumes in it, he said, "Hiding out in the open sometimes is best. They reason you have nothing worth stealing because you are so fucking stupid to be out here and starting a fire. And we're in the south...should be safe."

I shook my head and grabbed the kibble which we passed between us.

"Shit, didn't they have better taste?" he said looking at the box. "The seafood always sucks. Turkey's far better."

"I like turkey," I agreed. "Chicken's not bad."

Johnny grunted. "I would have hoped for a good prepack or SCOP for my first meal after a thaw."

"If you can find a _microwave_ in the desert," I replied snarkily as I turned around and crawled on all fours towards my blanket of fleece. I was settling in when Silverhand asked, "So why you not get any modifications done? Seems suicidal to not have."

"I won't talk about it," I answered, then bit my bottom lip and blinked rapidly away any tears forming in my eyes.

"Suit yourself."

The black sky above held my attention as a few hesitant notes emerged from my companion's throat. They were shaky at the start and off key, as if the man's mouth was unused to the very melody he had created. But he found his singing voice soon enough and I recognized the words having heard them enough throughout my life.

_"We lost everything,_

_We had to pay the price,_

_Yeah we lost everything,_

_We had to pay the price,_

_I saw in you what life was missing,_

_You lit a flame that consumed my hate,_

_I'm not one for reminiscing but,_

_I'd trade it all for your sweet embrace,_

_Yeah, Cause we lost everything,_

_We had to pay the price..."_

The song was "Never Fade Away." Silverhand had written it after he had lost his lover to Arasaka and the cyberworld. The song always made me cry for a multitude of reasons: the sadness of a man having lost the woman he loved, the beauty of the lyrics, which were really some of the better ones Johnny Silverhand had ever written, and the fact that nobody would ever write anything like that for me.

_"A thing of beauty - I know,_

_Will never fade away,_

_What you did to me - I know,_

_Said what you had to say,_

_But a thing of beauty,_

_Will never fade away,_

_Will never fade away,_

_Will never fade away..."_

I was far from a thing of beauty, I knew too well. I had faded long ago and would continue to do so until I died and was forgotten about completely.

"You really think you can find her?" I interrupted Johnny Silverhand's free concert, referring to the muse for his song.

"Yes," he answered "Or die trying."

A beat of silence before he effortlessly resumed.

_"I see your eyes,_

_I know you see me,_

_You're like a ghost how you're everywhere,_

_I am your demon never leaving a metal soul of rage and fear,_

_That one thing that changed it all,_

_That one sin that caused the fall,_

_A thing of beauty - I know,_

_Will never fade away,_

_What you did to me - I know,_

_Said what you had to say,_

_But a thing of beauty - I know,_

_Will never fade away..."_

I lay there on my back, listening to the man's nice voice, free from all the noise of other instruments until,

_"And I'll do my duty - I know,_

_Somehow I'll find a way..."_

the Rockerboy either got tired of singing or the painful memories the song was conjuring inside of his head. He suddenly stood up, and to my surprise, he walked to a space of twelve inches from my now bare feet. Johnny Silverhand stood before me, staring at me intensely, his hands undoing his belt, the one consisting of a row containing over a hundred bullets.

"What are you doing?" I asked, holding the blanket's edge up under my chin.

"Getting naked," he replied, the task undone and dropping his pants to show that he was going commando, something he'd probably picked up fighting in the military. His cock was semi hard and yet almost double the size of what I had seen in and out of the cyro tank when I had first gazed at him in person after years of seeing his face on posters or old video footage via the media. The firelight caught the member, showing that it was turning a shade of red to match the flames. He removed his vest and tank top then and crawled under the blankets by my side, his erection brushing against my thigh.

"So we can stay warm?" I asked, as he huddled close to me under the fleece, my voice trembling.

"No, so we can stuffit," he said before stealing my first kiss. It was hungry but devoid of any real affection, his lips taking and giving to some degree but nothing in the way of true love. Parting from me he explained, "I've made sure everything else is working on me after the freeze. Time to check out my dick."

"What about Alt?" I asked, my clitoris beginning to throb in anticipation as the man began to undo my shirt's buttons.

"She wouldn't mind. She'd want me to make sure its in working order too before I find her and use it on her. Once we find a replacement shell that is. Besides it's just your body...I'm not after your cyberghost like I am hers."

That betrayed one of the greatest differences between Johnny Silverhand and myself, I knew. To him a body didn't hold all that much importance. It could be altered or used without concern or care. Thrown away sometimes too, just like with all those groupies in their tell-alls. But to me it was an extension of my soul and important for that reason too. While my body was screaming to let the man have me, my heart and brain were arguing with me not to.

"Wait," I protested, grabbing his hand as he opened my shirt to reveal the black bra underneath. "I can't dock with you. I'm saving it for one person: the man I love and will spend the rest of my life with."

Johnny, kissed the large mound visible of my breast, sending a more urgent pounding between my legs. "Well that might not be that long in the Badlands and he might never show up in any case. But if another Raffen Shiv does and they find out you've got a whimple, they will have fun making your first time as painful as possible. Wouldn't you rather someone that kind of likes you break you in first?"

His hand returned to my breast and began to slowly massage my nipple through the lace. It started to tingle as he gently coaxed it out, despite its inversion.

"You kind of _like_ me?" I moaned, my tone being affected by my blood rushing arousal.

"Yeah," he said, taking another kiss, his beard soft and prickly on the sensitive skin on my face. "I don't hate you, at least." His lips found my other breast and kissed the soft skin there as well, teasing the nipple belonging to it too. My legs spread a little and bumped into the phallus again, bigger now and harder.

I thought of dying in the desert, never having made love to anybody. Johnny Silverhand did not love me but he didn't hate me and he would be kinder than the Wraiths or someone else of their kind. Words from an old song about death entered my mind. 

_"I've never known the lovin' of a man_   
_But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand..."_

I'd never even done that last thing either, I realized.

My hand suddenly moved to grasp Johnny's silver hand, lying by the right side of my head. I held it in my own and it _was_ nice even if it was chrome and cold.

"Okay," I whispered, my decision made, heart and brain conferring with my body then, too.

Smiling in proud triumph, his hand undaunted now by my own, John lifted up my bra. I watched his head move between my large but unscuplted, and therefore far from beautiful, breasts.

"Don't worry, baby," Silverhand said, observing my embarrassment. "I saw em already. Actually I haven't had a natural in a long time...decades. Should be fun. And I saw how turned on you were while I was checking you for hidden tit rifles. You moaned so much you almost got me off in the lab. Had to hold myself back. One thing about stasis...it sure makes you horny. But now I got your consent, I'm gonna feed off of these things like you're my SPOC or Prepack, Tweety Bird."

I began to cry, still unsure, but he soothed me by kissing the mammaries framing his bearded face. He was right. My tits would always be my downfall. They were incredibly sensitive and responded to the littlest stimulation. But Johnny was not aiming for simple minor teasing. He was going wild with his kisses, sucks and little nips, and making me squirm in pleasure, my buds and clit blooming further in almost painful bliss. The Rockerboy turned his mouth's attention to my nipples, which fully emerged inside of his singer's mouth, his tongue flicking them each in turn as he alternated pleasing them. I purred as he continued his oral titillation of my tits. The man could use his lips well besides from just singing with them I was swiftly discovering.

Meanwhile, his hand had crawled like some lascivious creature up my skirt and removed my panties, sliding them off from me. His right hand rubbed my furry mound a few times, running his fingers of flesh through my pubic hair.

"Not trimmed once in your fucking life, I take it," he stopped sucking long enough to say. "I can tell. It's more curled than the mass on top of your head. I like a good bush though. Alt got rid of her ages ago. Never would grow one for me even though I begged her to. Got one of those stupid merkle things. Leopard print."

He went back to sucking on my tits like he was breastfeeding off of them and stroking my muffin. The more he did both, the more I felt the cream flowing out from me on to the desert's dirt floor and my clit peeking like a small nub out from my swelling and spreading curtains. Johnny found it eventually, his fingers going to stimulate it, as my fluid pooled around the throbbing bit of flesh. I was making small cries and Johnny raised his head to kiss my lips and steal a few before returning to my chest

He repositioned himself between my legs and brought his now fully erect and frighteningly huge erection to my blocked vaginal entrance.

"Too big," I cried, feeling afraid at the prospect of having to accept the Rockerboy's impatient and leaking beast, even if my cunt was widening for it in mad anticipation.

"You think I never docked with big women before?" Silverhand asked with a laugh, looking down at me in pure unadulterated lust. "They have pleasures unique to them, Tweety Bird."

"I wasn't talking about me," I moaned, feeling his phallus poised to tear me.

"Oh," Johnny sounded. "That. I understand but you can handle it. I made a mental note while I was searching for knives up there."

With a forceful thrust, Johnny proceeded to show me by jamming his red, angry organ into me. The penis tore straight through my hymen and made me cry out loudly, a scream he stifled with his mouth and swallowed whole. He brought his hands to my breasts and squeezed them, the right mound and teat feeling the smooth, metal of his cybetnetic left hand. He started to massage and tug on my nipples as he pushed in deeper, trying to distract me from the pain. The man proved as successful manipulating my chest as he did a guitar and his dick was just another instrument he was playing to great effect between my legs. His movement was assurred and smooth, he knew just how to pound into me and what to hit. My pussy was wet from cream and precum alike, pulsating and filling with blood and subsequent pressure. When his cock greeted my womb, I was already close to release.

"Oh please, Johnny, please," I begged. "More...more...I'm...I'm...oh...close...please, so close."

"You think Kerry Eurodyne could give it to you this good?" he asked, licking my erect tit as he grabbed a cold handful of my boob.

"No, no, NO!" I screamed, finding it impossible that anybody could offer me as good a fleshy piece of meat as a gift and know just how to use it to make me cry and writhe around, my cunt clenching the hot member hungrily, wanting its seed. "You're so good...this is so good...You're the best, Johnny Silverhand."

"That is what they say, I hear," the man said, leaving me with a slightly sad feeling as my orgasm came at last.

My body convulsed as violently as someone at a zonedance, clit, cunt and even asshole feverishly spasming and clenching, while only one had the honor of doing so surrounding Johnny Silverhand's swollen cock.

"AHHHHHHHH!" I called ouo, desperate and unable to stop myself. I didn't want him to know what he had done to me but my body betrayed it loudly and with physical force.

Johnny unleashed at the same time and I realized he could have done so at any point, in control of his cock's firing as much as he was his Malorian 3516. He grunted, an expression of release on his face which looked both like ecstasy and pain. When he was finished, I felt embarrased and vulnerable and started to weep again, feeling cheap, just like one of his many groupies, even though my body was lost in the start of its afterglow.

At least it was over.

Or so I thought.

"I think we found out how you can repay me now, Tweety," he said fondly, playing with my nipple. "You let me dock you whenever, however, wherever I want."

"You're...you're not serious," I panted in shock.

He nodded his head and looked into my eyes, the fire catching the chrome arm he was bringing to my cheek and making it shine in the darkness. "Ten docks," he said, carressing the side of my face with his silver hand. "I'm letting you off easy, Tweety. I'd say your life was worth way more than three times that of each Raffen Shiv I killed for you. But I'll put it at ten and add one fuck just for the hell of it cuz I really do like you."

He gazed at me strangely for all of three seconds, kissed my forehead and then rolled off of me, turning on his side away from me and hogging most of the covers. "Now get some sleep. We've got a lot of walking tomorrow under a hot sun and with nothing to drink except each other."

Wiping away some of the only water available in the desert out of my eyes and off of my cheeks, I pulled what bit of blanket he had left me closer towards my still trembling body. It was cold, just as he had claimed, but my body was warm from the fire and from the first blast of sexual heat it had ever known, besides what I had done to it myself. I lay on my back for a while, looking at the stars, praying to God that He'd bring us water and would forgive me for the seed of a loveless Rockerboy drying on my thigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never Fade Away lyrics by Mike Pondsmith/Refused, I think.
> 
> Other quote comes from Band Perry's If I Die Young.
> 
> I bought the World of Cyberpunk 2077 book, hoping to make this fic the best I can even though the game won't be released until November.
> 
> I wanted to update 2 more fics in this series before the weekend but I don't think I can. I'm still upset about Bill and Ted Face the Music. I hated a change they made from the first films and now I hear they changed the devil too from the second, which breaks my heart. Right now my brain feels really bad and I don't want these stories to suffer because of it. They are all mapped out in my head and to fail them would break my heart too. So I will write when I am sure that it won't compromise the quality of my tales. Something I wish the four guys involved with BTFM would have done instead of pumping out a sequel which doesn't make sense and adversely affects the first two, which I love. :(
> 
> Next week should be better, I hope.
> 
> I hope you had a good birthday, though, Keanu. I still love you. Love means admitting when you are disappointed in someone but that you love them all the same. You'll do better next time! :D <3


	3. Mo(u)rning Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wake up to find myself lost in the Badlands with a horny Rockerboy.
> 
> One whom is ready to use up dock #2.

In the morning, I, at first, thought I was back in my small apartment in Wellsprings. It was incredibly hot and I thought the air conditioning must have gone on the blitz sometime during the night, leaving me covered in sweat. Kicking off the blanket, I turned over and grabbed on to what I assumed was the teddy bear I slept with, despite being well past the age where that was looked on favorably, and discovered Patches suddenly had skin instead of simulated fur and a large metal arm that was burning against the skin on my searching hand. When that same hand dipped lower and felt something fleshy, hard, long, thick and decidedly tubular my eyes flew open after I swiftly recalled the events from the night before.

Johnny Silverhand was staring at me in amusement under the bright desert sun, lying naked beside me while my hand was holding on to his impressive branch of morning wood.

"Good morning, Tweety," he greeted. "That anxious?"

My eyes widening in surprise, every event from yesterday hitting me with full force, the Rockerboy also used his full force to roll right on top of me. He lifted my left leg up and poised his erect penis to get to know me once more after already having taken my virginity. That was what he had said, after all, before I had cried myself to sleep: Ten docks. Then I would have repaid him in full for saving my otherwise raped and cooked ass from the Wraiths.

I just hadn't expected him to want to collect again so soon.

"You want to drop down to eight right _now_?" I asked, my voice squeaking.

"Why not?" Johnny Silverhand replied. "I haven't had some good, decent morning sex for fifty years."

I gulped and threw my head back, trying to look for an escape plan behind me. Johnny's lips soon found my neck, however. He licked it, at first, letting his moist tongue roll from my collarbone all the way to my chin before he started to kiss my throat hungrily like I was to be his breakfast. I felt his right hand beginning to stroke the underside of my plump thigh and from this overload of sensations, both above and below, my escape plan went out the window in light of my being so horribly turned on.

His lips lowered until they rediscovered my chest and I arched my back as he started to orally stimulate my nipples, each in their turn, sending out resulting throbs down to the bud still being manipulated. I whimpered while Johnny started to mimic feeding from my big breasts again and just throughly enjoying them as if they were two mammoth off-shaped melons he had set aside for the supposedly most important meal of the day.

"Ohhhhh," I cooed, enjoying the way the man's tongue felt dancing with my erected nipples. "Why...why..."

"Why does it feel so good when I play with your tits?" Johnny asked.

I nodded shyly at him, squirming underneath his strong body in my arousal.

"Because for some girls its their tits; some its their stomach, legs or ass. That's the fun part: finding out how to make them come loud enough to make my amp seem weak," Johnny smiled. "Some it's several things...are you one of those, Tweety? You seemed like you would be. When I was checking your ass out for gear, you..."

I kissed him to shut him up. But his memory was apparently working all right after the freeze, for he remarked once the kiss had ended, "We'll try that out tonight."

When the Rockerboy brought his left hand to my face, I jolted from its still present heat. "Johnny, it's hot," I complained.

"Just like you're feeling right about now?" he bragged, dipping his right finger into my slit and twirling it around my blooming clit.

Liking the feeling too much for my own good, I moaned and Silverhand placed his silver thumb inside of my mouth. It too had been heated by the blazing sun but like some fool who doesn't know any better than to spit out a bite of food that's too hot, I took to sucking on the piece of chrome while its much larger counterpart was still bumping me down below, ready to come in. The metal felt hot against my lips and tongue for all of two seconds, but then it shifted to a state of being comfortable and wonderfully smooth. I met Johnny's suprised and bemused gaze and he growled at me before stroking my bushy mound. I felt the cream coating his finger on the skin of my vulva and shivered in excitement.

"I take it that means yes," the man stated, moving his other cybernetic digits through my hair.

I nodded, continuing to suckle the thumb, too turned on at this point to want to tell him no. More cream was quickly spilling out from my cunt, following his resuming toying with my clit and I just wanted to get the man's cock as wet as he had made me.

Johnny Silverhand smiled charmingly but his eyes were alive with almost malicious glee as he thrusted his penis into the opening he had prepared the way for only last night. The feminine grunt of ecstatic approval that came out of my lips surprised me almost as much as it surprised my companion in the Badlands. But it felt so good having the large piece of meat sliding in between my legs that the sound was out before I could stop it. Trying to see if he could make me set free anymore, Johnny began to repeat the action, sliding his cock up and down my delighted canal. Though formerly foreign to the sensation of being stretched so wide, my vagina was getting more than used to it. As for me, I moved my own body to willingly accomodate him, trying to bring to his lovely dick the same pleasure he was bringing to me and reading his face to tell me what the ex soldier did and didn't like.

 _"You're crazy,"_ I thought to myself. _"One minute you're crying yourself to sleep because you feel like a cheap groupie and the next you're enjoying the feel of him just pounding into you."_

It was true. The Rockerboy had finally unleashed years of sexual frustration inside of me when he had torn my hymen, it seemed. Now I was finding it difficult not to respond even though I knew I'd feel just as bad as I had before when it was all over and done with and fresh semen was on my thigh.

I was making small whimpers of bliss and Johnny was urged on by them to increase the energy in his performance. All the while, I could easily see written on his features that I was doing it for him just as much as he was doing it for me. This, I soon realized, was what was really making me go wild. I'd always been more of a giver than a taker. Another reason I had always known that sooner or later I'd wind up being _taken_ by Arasaka in some way.

But right there, in the south of the Badlands, with an assumed dead Rockerboy's cock stuffing me, I didn't quite feel as miserable about it all as I should. Not everybody got the chance to have sex with the legend Johnny Silverhand, after all.

Looking into Johnny's blissed out expression, I knew that part of my abandonment was all due to him. The guy had charisma oozing out from every pore in his body, besides the sweat generated by our act of not quite love. But, I felt safe with him in some strange way. Maybe it was because after years of reading his articles, hearing his music and watching his old interviews (mostly due to my being a Kerry Eurodyne fan) I felt that I knew him in some way. With my shyness, getting to know somebody was always difficult. I always felt inferior and my size and coinciding lack of enhancements, tattoos or cyberware always made people feel uncomfortable around me. As did my lack of ambitions and morals. My spirituality never helped matters either. Whenever I told anybody I was immediately taken for a fool, freak or cultist.

In the end, getting to know somebody always turned out to be impossible: nobody _wanted_ to be known.

At least, not by a _nobody_ such as myself.

But with Johnny Silverhand, I knew him almost as much as everyone else. Or a little more than some of the more recent yogangers which were forsaking anything from the past to blaze forth with their own generation's culture. I knew about Silverhand's ordeal with the Central American Conflict, his war against the corpos and especially his hatred for Arasaka which had taken Alteria from him.

I guess, his loss really fuelled my affection for him inspite of my irritation. I may not have liked Cunningham and her constant pursuit of a beauty that did not truly belong to her, but it was futile to believe that Johnny Silverhand had not loved her and been destroyed by her death. It was easily betrayed in every song he had ever written following her death, just as it was evident in his self destructive mission to make Arasaka pay for it.

Even if I didn't always like Johnny Silverhand, my heart went out to him and broke just a little for him too.

So I found myself, a nobody out in the middle of nowhere, giving my inexperienced cunt to a somebody like the former famous head of the Samurai, trying to help him forget that bit of pain I saw flashing in his eyes every now and then. At least, when he was making love to me it was absent because his dick was overpowering his own broken heart.

Maybe my guilt had some small role in it all, as well, I knew. I worked for Arasaka and its blood was on my hands. I knew about what it had done to people like Silverhand and Cunningham. Still I had joined rank with them and even celebrated the day they had hired me. I had tried to tell myself that the corpo had changed after they had helped rebuild Night City and save it during and after the Unification War. But I heard the rumors along with everybody else. Arasaka was still knee deep in its sadistic shit and soaked in the blood of millions.

I had been set up to be one of them too.

I comforted myself in the knowledge that maybe my allowing Johnny to dock me a second time after knowing him for less than twenty four hours could easily be explained away by familiarity, compassion and guilt.

Or perhaps it was simply because Johnny Silverhand knew how to fuck me better than I had ever even contemplated in my wildest sexual fantasies.

I grabbed the Rockerboy's hips and found a way to roll my own to increase my vagina's welcoming of his phallus. My hands took handfulls of his ass and I took in his entire length with one push, lying back I watched the resulting wave of ecstasy spread across his bearded face. His head was buried in my chest again while our joined pelvises continued to pump and grind as needed. His mouth eventually climbed north and returned to kissing my neck.

"You are so fucking _tight_ ," he whispered into my ear and kissed the side of my face.

"You're working on making me so fucking _loose_ ," I replied into his own and bit his earlobe.

Our lips met and we were kissing passionately as I felt that I was soon about to pee. The urge heralded another powerful orgasm, one that clenched the beautiful cock pushed deep inside me. It was almost a jealous act, as if it knew that it could not have the heart pumping blood to it. I warned my own heart not to catch my cunt's possessiveness. I could never have the Rockerboy's love: Alt had that. I could only enjoy his body, the way he knew how to use it, and the bit of fondness he seemed to honestly have for me.

My vagina pulled Johnny Silverhand into his own orgasm, one I saw written with delirious intensity on his face. I kissed him again but his load now unleashing inside of me his returned kiss was an absent minded affair, possessing only half of its previous passion. He seemed more focused on just savoring his own coming than trying to make it into an intimately _emotional_ affair.

I panted under him until he eventually noticed how physically well pleased he had made me, despite the bittersweet note he had left me with for a second time. Johnny felt generous enough, once more, to pay me attention.

"You liked that, huh, Tweety?" he asked, giving my nipple a quick lick and suckle. "I'll make you into a Rockergirl yet."

Propping myself up on my elbows, I used my foot to push the man off and out of me. He was on his knees, staring down at me while I glared up at him, upset that a man whom I pitied, and whom could make my body go off like the best braindance a sex addict ever experienced, could be so arrogant. "Not you or anybody else makes me into anything I _don't_ want to be!" I snapped at him, his dick raw looking and wet with our mixed fluids. "I dock with you as payback."

Gloating, Silverhand rose to his feet and went to where he had left his discarded clothing. I watched his nice ass while he moved around, bending over several times to pick them up. Facing me the cocksure Rockerboy studied me while he started to get dressed. "With all those sounds you make, Tweety, it sounds like you're getting _something_ out of it too."

I groaned in frustration and sat up. Pulling down my bra, I buttoned up my shirt and tried to ignore the conceited Silverhand, whom continued to redress. He was singing the whole time, another Samurai hit he was well known for. His voice was loud and confident, filling up the vacant landscape and I hated how good he sounded even in the desert.

"Ready to go?" Johnny Silverhand asked and to my surprise he lifted the heavier bag this time, leaving me with the lighter one. He saw my shock and stated, "I feel a lot lighter now. Getting my rocks off into you helped."

I sighed. "Do you _always_ talk to girls you dock like this? The groupies left that part out."

"No," Johnny replied. " **ONLY ROADIES**!" he shouted loudly after suddenly turning away from me.

I was looking at him in bafflement when he faced me again. The Rockerboy then had to go and offer me that winning smile of his, one which accompanied the returned sorrow in his eyes, and I found myself forgiving him all too easily.

"Come on, Tweety Bird," Johnny said, walking ahead. "Time to fly."

Grabbing the other bag, I flapped my chubby wings as quickly as I could to catch up to my still boisterously chirping companion.


	4. Strange Fires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Badlands, Johnny encounters an old friend while I find myself falling for the Rockerboy against my will.

We tredged together through the Badlands under a sun that blasted us with such a fierce intensity that it almost seemed to loathe us. Why it should, I had little idea. We were just two gonk individuals tackling the Badlands with no water and a only slight idea of where we were going.

"Are you sure this is the way back to Night City?" I asked, walking on the side of the Rockerboy's cybernetic arm. It kept catching the reflection of that same glaring sun and shining it right in my eye.

"Not really," he answered.

I waited five seconds until he had walked a few feet ahead and then rushed to his right hand side to avoid becoming blind. "So we could be going in the wrong destination?" I theorized.

"Yep."

I sighed, as Johnny resumed belting out another Samurai chart topper, unsure of how he could remain so calm when we were two blind Moseses possibly gone astray in the desert. If there was one bright spot it was that the sun had lost some of its anger after some gray clouds had rushed in front of it like fluffy bodyguards.

"At least, it looks like rain," I commented.

My words made Silverhand stop his singing and look to the sky. "Shit," he swore.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "We can finally get some water."

Johnny Silverhand looked frantically around until his eyes landed on something in the distance. He grabbed my arm and began to pull me forwards as he ran towards it. "FLAP FASTER TWEETY BIRD!" he looked back once to admonish, his voice so loud and frightening he gave my legs the needed impetus to follow his command. Thunder was starting to boom its arrival (still not as loud as the Rockerboy when he sang) when we reached what Johnny had spotted: the remenents of a fallen airplane. Taking out his gun, the man shot the door at its lock and then ripped it off. Another loud crack of thunder could be heard as Johnny grabbed me by the hips and with a grunt hoisted me up into the plane, quickly joining me thereafter.

The place smelt horrid but my attention remained only on my companion and his odd behavior.

"Why? What?" I asked, leaving out the how and who due to their irrelevancy.

Johnny ignored me again and stared out the doorway in relief as the rain started to fall.

"Shouldn't we find something to _catch_ it in?" I suggested, feeling very thirsty.

Turning to look at his ignorant companion, the Rockerboy sneered until his eyes landed on something behind me. Following his gaze, looking over my pink shoulder, my eyes enlargened when I saw what had earned the man's gaze. In the main body of the ship, there were still somewhat fresh corpses lying in their seats. The plane and all in it had only found its demise in the last month or so, the level of decay seeming not that far set in. From their attire, suits, all black, I would mark them as corpos.

Not only that, but _Arasaka_ corpos.

Spinning around, I quickly saw the look of rage that swept across my companion's face. It was the most wounded look of fury I had ever seen and I was terrified when he strode towards me. In that one second, I believed he had somehow read my mind and its automatic red alerted memory of my connection to Arasaka. He was going to kill me, I thought, and make his traveling baggage far more lighter. I was relieved to discover that his intent was one of the seats behind me, however. Johnny Silverhand went to one of the collarboys; he chose the oldest of the passengers, a man with white, short cropped hair and he ripped the corpse straight out of the seat. Stomping past me, the Rockerboy carried the dead man to the plane door and then tossed him out like he was nothing more than a heavy garbage bag.

Going to Johnny's side, we watched as the rain fell on the Arasaka corpo's unmoving body. His skin began to sizzle and send up smoke while the rain fell on him without compassion. I gasped in horror as it eventually began to be burned away, showing the red tissue underneath.

"The high levels of chemicals out here makes the rain toxic. But if you want to drink that stuff go ahead, Tweety," Johnny Silverhand stated cockily. "Just don't pour me a glass."

* * *

We waited out the storm in the cabin of the plane with the dead Arasaka workers. In truth they made better company that way. At first, the sound of the rain hitting the outside of the plane terrified me but Johnny soon saw my concern and soothed it away. "Don't worry about it. She'll hold."

His eyes had dropped to my legs then and travelled on up to my crotch. I was half expecting him to want to use up dock #8 when he suddenly returned his gaze to what lay outside the window. Staring at his handsome profile, I found myself almost regretful. "What?" I asked him. "You're not going to fuck me right here? Give these Arasaka scum the finger by stuffin it to a big girl in their decaying presence?"

Johnny turned. Meeting my eyes, he laughed. "Tempting..."

"But not enough to take a bite?"

The Rockerboy shook his head. "I wouldn't want to do that to you, Tweety Bird. Corpses hardly make for a romantic setting to have sex. When this is all over between us, I want you to be left with _good_ memories of me."

Staring into his completely sincere brown eyes, my heart started to burn but in a way far different from the skin on the collarboy as the acid rain ate it away. This was something different, something warmer.

And far more dangerous.

At least for me.

* * *

When the rain stopped, it was about overdue, the smell becoming almost unbearable even for the Rockerboy. Johnny suggested we wait until the sun dried things up and we started to search the plane in the meantime for food and, more importantly, for water.

"Fucking A!" Silverhand exclaimed, holding up some bottles of Real Water. "Give coporate swine credit, they always have the apogee."

"I found some nut SCOP," I said, showing the man the small bags.

"Want to eat here?" Johnny asked.

I raised my brows at him, the thought almost making me want to throw up. From the little laugh he gave, I knew that he had only been joking and threw a SCOP pack at him. He caught it in a flash of silver.

* * *

Venturing out into the Badlands again, my bag heavier from our spoils, we passed the collarboy. His skin and the gore underneath were all virtually gone by that time. All that was left was a skeleton in a suit. "Good thing you're pretty in pink, Tweety," Johnny remarked, giving Mr. Skullhead a kick and glaring daggers at the black Arasaka suit. "Or I'd have let the Wraith have you."

We continued walking under the sun, which had picked up its wrath again easily. Though it was hot, my heart felt chilled inside of the body cloaked in a suit it didn't truly belong in but had saved its life anyway.

* * *

We stopped once for a break, Johnny insisting we ration the water and SCOP, and then continued. Why he kept on singing was almost equal to the question of how he was able to. With the sun relentless and only the smallest amount of water to keep him hydrated he still managed to keep giving me a free concert. Although, I was getting a headache by then. When I finally surrendered and asked him how he did it, he smiled at me. "Got used to it on tour. Some singers voices give out, mine just gets fuelled. Guess, it started during the conflict."

"How?" I asked again.

"Well, music was my life growing up and my strength during the war. When I lost my arm, the only thing that kept me from going crazy was singing this one tune inside my head."

"Which one?" I asked, smiling.

"White Rabbit," he replied. "I'd felt like I'd gone down that hole straight into a fucking hell. Seeing men die around me.... I knew I'd come back and expose the bullshitters for what they were. And I knew that I'd do it with a song."

My flesh raised in goosepimples as I realized that Johnny was sharing with me something he rarely even did with a media he never completely trusted, other than his friend Thompson, that is. I was flattered then and honored and more than a little starstruck as it fully hit me that my traveling companion was none other than superstar Rockerboy Johnny Silverhand himself.

That he had been my first lover, as well, was also enough to make me dizzy.

Averting my eyes did no good against the blush on my face and when Johnny turned to look down at me, I prayed that he took it for a sunburn.

"Being a soldier teaches you something about stamina," he commented, throwing me a glance. "That comes in handy for being a rock star." He threw me another look and this time it lingered along with a knowing little smirk on his striking face. "And as a _lover_ too," he added.

Just another unanswered prayer in the desert.

Johnny Silverhand studied me in amusement before turning away and singing a Kerry Eurodyne single of all things. That he was doing it for me, out of kindness or as a joke, made me feel strange again, like I was falling down my own rabbit hole side by side with my best friend and worst enemy rolled into one.

* * *

When it turned dark, we camped and ate, washing down SCOP and kibble with genuine water. It tasted better than I could ever have imagined. Seeing the look of pleasure on my face while I drank from the bottle, Johnny quickly crawled towards me and grabbed it out of my hands. "You look like you're about to come," he remarked and took a swig of the water.

Blushing again, I squirmed where I sat quietly by the fire. Eyeing me, Johnny placed the bottle on the ground and leaned towards my plump body. "Only I make you do that," the Rockerboy stated, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling my body up against his. Needful lips found mine which responded with their own want. I was surprised by my passion, fearing that it was further fanned by the burning I had felt being kindled in the crashed plane or hearing Johnny sing a song that didn't belong to him. My ardour didn't seem to cause the man a moment's worth of confusion. He returned it full forced, bringing his other hand around to complete the embrace.

We knelt kissing before the flames, generating our own heat in the cold desert night. Silverhand's hands roamed back to my front, where he began to remove my clothing. The jacket came off first, thrown to the right and away from the fire. The shirt soon joined it, then my bra. Eventually the skirt found its way to the discarded clothing. With particular relish, my lover enjoyed removing my panties. Having me lie on my back, he slowly moved them up my legs, stopping to admire my pubes, which were glowing in the firelight, resembling their own burning bush. Once removed, instead of throwing the underwear with the other clothing, Johnny tossed them in the other direction where they landed right in the fire.

"Johnny!" I squeaked in shock as I watched them catch flames and start to curl up on their way to becoming ash.

"That's another thing being a soldier taught me," he said, pulling me back up and into his embrace and kiss.

Naked in his arms, his hands sensually exploring the buttocks he had exposed, my protests soon faltered. When his hands, both flesh and chrome, touched my back, I started to laugh as the tender skin felt too sensitive.

"Ticklish?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

His gentle touch turned more forceful and my giggles turned into gasps, pleasure returning to my body and centering on the lower part of my anatomy. The Rockerboy's hands roughly crawled up my back, from its small to the nape of my neck. When they reached that area, I started to make small cries, the feeling creating a certain bliss that went beyond just the physical variety. Sensing this, Johnny continued to rub it while he lowered his face to my breasts. His lips spreading across their sensitive landscape, the feeling of sexual arousal grew alongside the other.

"Ohhhhhh," I cooed as Johnny's free hand dipped between my legs and found the clit to massage slowly between his fingers.

Arching my back, I thrusted my breasts closer into his face, where he bit, licked and kissed them. My hands found the back of Silverhand's own neck, holding him to my heart while I rubbed his neck, hoping to give him that same strange pleasure. The man rubbed his face into the soft cushion of my bust before bringing his lips to mine for a heated kiss. In the midst of this locking of lips, Johnny's hand reached higher to the tie keeping my hair up.

The one he hadn't wanted me to use.

"No," I managed to moan, knowing his intent. My cheek was pressed against his own, the whiskers of his beard both pleasant and unpleasant against my skin.

Johnny Silverhand did not heed me, however. He undid the tie, letting my hair fall like the afternoon's rain on my shoulder and breasts. He tossed the tie into the fire and looked at me kneeling in front of him, my auburn brown hair like curled curtains on either side of my pouting face.

"Beautiful," he groaned before holding me to him once more, our lips finding the other by need and instinct.

Hands returned to my ass, the fingers dipping into the crevice and carressing the skin between, and I threw my head back as a moan much louder than the others flew from my mouth.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that," Johnny said with an amused grin.

Grabbing me by my hips, the Rockerboy faced me away from him, rotating my ass so it was aimed in his direction. My breasts were on the desert floor, my palms resting on it, by my face, as my butt was up in the air. "What are you doing?" I asked, looking over my shoulder to see Johnny eyeing my large ass almost hungrily.

"Remember, Tweety," he said. "We were supposed to see if you were one of those girls whose asses do it for them too."

"Johnny I..." I began to protest again but it was too late. Johnny Silverhand had leaned forward and was trailing his famous tongue from the bottom of my ass crack to its top.

And I went crazy just as he suspected I would.

His hands clamped down on my thighs and he buried his face into the soft skin on my bottom, making me cry out even louder than before. "OH JOHNNY!" I screamed into the darkness which surrounded us.

The Rockerboy was eating me from behind, his tongue exploring both my anus and my dripping cunt. The same tongue I had listened to all day, belting out his songbook, was being rammed up both my openings and turning me into a singer now too; one with a far less melodic nature but one obviously very enthusiastic about it, all the same. I felt liquid running down my thigh and could not tell if it was saliva, cream or both. Panting, I bumped my butt into the Rockerboy's face, liking the way his fuzzy chin felt against my perineum.

In response, Johnny's cybernetic hand made its way to my clit. It was cold in the beginning and I squealed. However, it soon adapted, stealing some of my warmth. I was on my hands and knees, weeping in pleasure and moaning in bliss while Johnny Silverhand brought me to climax. I was clenching and calling out his name like any of his groupies or fangirls, too much in ecstasy to regret it or hate myself. Everything was going off and I wondered if he could see my butthole frantically imitating my vagina I was still sobbing in bliss when he pulled me to him, my naked back falling against his chest and my buttocks being pressed into his large, unleashed and waiting erection.

"I was right, wasn't I?" he whispered into my ear, his hands clasped around my stomach.

"Yes," I whispered. " _Fuck_ yes."

"Your ass liked my tongue; let's see now how it handles the other big red joystick," he stated.

"NO!" I cried in fright. I'd heard too many Arasaka collarboy's talking at the office about making this joygirl cry and scream in pain not pleasure as they gave it to her up the ass. I was suddenly frightened of the pain and taking in all of what Johnny Silverhand had to offer.

To my surprise, gently turning my face to his and seeing my tears and terror, Johnny softly kissed me, calming me with his lips. Touching my cheek with the back of his chrome fingers, he cooed, "You're not ready for that yet, Tweety? I understand. You don't have to."

My mouth fell open, my shoulders untensed and I felt myself melting from the Rockerboy's unexpected kindness more than from the flames of the fire by our side. The burning was in my heart again, a glow that spread through my soul and body alike.

John trailed a silver finger along my jaw, obviously reading my emotions. He bestowed a quick kiss on my nose and then held me tightly. "I'm still turned on as hell, though. Can you help me?"

Nodding, I gave him my consent. Another kiss on my nose, Johnny easily entered me from behind, his way made wet from our previous bit of foreplay. Growling as my cunt welcomed his cunt, my lover took a handful of my dirt covered breasts and we started our third dock bringing the number down to seven.

Feeling Johnny buried deep within me from behind, my buttocks brushing against his large balls, I found the blood rushing to my genitals again. The man's strong hands cupped my breasts, acting like some frisky makeshift bra which was toying with my nipples. I looked down and saw Johnny fondling my breasts in the glow of the firelight. He squeezed the flesh and pulled on the nips, wildly exciting me. I writhed next to him as his hands were all over me, my bud growing wonderfully down below.

"Oh, Johnny...I...I lo..." I started to tell him, my mouth motivated by my heart and not my head when luckily we were interrupted before I could confess something that would do neither of us any good.

If you can call a complete stranger catching you fully naked and being fucked from behind _lucky_.

Both Johnny and I looked up in shock as we heard a voice being cleared somewhere ahead of us and to the left.

"Why Johnny Silverhand," a man in shades, obviously a nomad, older in years but still handsome, said as he stepped out of the darkness. "I thought that was your mournful voice, I'd been hearing."

I threw my head back and looked into my lover's face. He had seemingly forgotten about the girl his swollen penis was lost inside and was looking at the newcomer with a wide smile. "Santiago Aldecaldo," Johnny exclaimed. "I was hoping you would dig the wax out of your ears and hear me eventually."

Johnny removed his left hand from off my breast and held it out for the man to take. In great embarrassment, I knelt there, naked and being stuffed as the almost stranger leaned forward to take Silverhand's cybernetic hand. Squirming a little, I watched as Santiago sat down on the ground before us. From the way the man was acting, it seemed perfectly normal for him to come across assumed dead Rockerboys fucking big naked chicks out in the middle of wastelands.

"My people alerted me," Santiago said in an even and almost poetic tone. "They said that somebody'd been blaring old Samurai records all day. When they said one was a cover of an old Eurodyne song...well that was when my suspicions were aroused, so to speak."

The man's eyes lowered to my pussy and the clit probably betraying the fact that I was in a similar state.

"Hear that Tweety?" Johnny said suddenly reminded of my presence. "If it wasn't for you, we'd still be lost."

"Gr-great," I stammered.

Johnny returned his attention to his friend almost immediately. "I was hoping they would. But, gotta admit, that Kerry tune was for her sake not yours."

Aldecaldo nodded in understanding. "So any particular reason why you finally decided to grace us with your ugly, but remarkably unaged, mug again after all these years? Don't misunderstand me, it's always nice to see you but..."

"I was in a cyro tank in an Arasaka lab out here," Johnny explained casually, even though his dick was still throbbing inside of me. "Was just set free."

I frowned realizing I had been omitted from the rescue.

"That's good, choomba," Santiago said and I saw the eyes behind the shades dart to look over my naked body again.

"Johnny!" I said, feeling the Rockerboy's body strong behind me, his cock hard inside of me while his friend was eyeing me from the front.

"Right," Johnny said. "Excuse me for a few minutes, San. I'll finish up and then we can flap gums."

"Can I be of service?" Santiago asked looking hopeful.

"No," Johnny thankfully told him. "I can handle this one by myself; not like that one in 'Sisco. Should be good.

Aldecaldo gave a small nod and continued to sit and watch us.

I'd been assuming that Silverhand would exit me and then let me crawl away so he could talk with his friend. I was not expecting him to just carry on in front of Santiago Aldecaldo as if we had never been interrupted and that we were the man's porn for the night.

"I think we should," I began to complain until Silverhand started to play with my tits again while he thrusted upwards. "Ahhhhhh...ahhhh....ohhhhh..." I panted, my own body betraying me by moving itself to give and get the most from the organ pleasing it so mercilessly.

Johnny had my nipples between his fingers and was pinching them while he simultaneously squeezed them. It was making me even more turned on and I spread my thighs as my clit felt about as large as a plum. Catching movement from where Santiago Aldecaldo was watching us, I moved backwards, flinching, as I saw him casually playing with the growing bulge in his lap. I was about to complain to Johnny but the Rockerboy thought I wanted him to kiss me again and so he did. Another wave of pleasure rolled me under until I was lost in Johnny Silverhand's sexual proweress, my complaint having been forgotten about entirely. The kiss was so long, I had to gasp for breath eventually. The gasp turned into a scream of pleasure when Silverhand's hand left my breast to tease my responsive clit.

We were kissing again before I knew it, our lower halves finding their ryhthm and our upper ones finding their own also. Breaking away, I rested my head back on the Rockerboy's shoulder and closed my eyes to revel in the man's lips on my neck.

"Oh Johnny," I moaned as my clit suddenly burst and my cunt hugged the piece of flesh it was coming to adore.

Soon after, Johnny was filling me with his seed again, an act which seemed to last deliciously long, his cock dancing inside my still occassionally spasming vagina.

When I looked up, I was shocked from my afterglow by the remembrance of our voyeur, whom seemed to be wiping his hands off on the edge of his pant leg. I was feeling degraded and humiliated until Johnny whispered in my ear. "He'll help get us out of here, Erin. You were great."

The Rockerboy then kissed my cheek and pulled out of me gently, moving in front of me almost protectively. "Mind handing me the clothing," Johnny Silverhand asked and Aldecaldo acquiesced. Johnny took it and gave it to me from over his shoulder, offering me a wink.

The two men started to talk while I got dressed. Forgotten about, except for a pat on my ass as I left my shield, I walked to where our blankets lay and acted as if I was going to sleep. Johnny's cum on my thigh again, I couldn't actually drift off but merely pretended to. Silverhand and Santiago, whom had been talking about the Aldecaldos before I had pretended to snore, soon fell into the usual male bragging once they thought I could not hear them. I listened to a few comments about the third time I'd ever had sex and blushed ferociously from some crude praise and remarks.

"Leave it to you, Silverhand, you can even find groupies in the desert," Santiago eventually commented.

"Her? Girl ain't no groupie. She's a Twinkle that a corpo used and then spit out. She saved me actually."

A happy smile stole across my face.

"So what are you planning on doing now that you're free?" Santiago asked.

"Make Arasaka pay," Johnny replied. "But first I have to find Alt."

"What's the rush, Silverhand...looked to me like you were enjoying yourself back there."

"What? Tweety Bird?" Johnny Silverhand said with a short laugh. "She's sweet but she's not Alt. I mean, who fucking well is?"

And with those words the smile on my face vanished as suddenly as it appeared and the fire in my heart burned me in the way I had been afraid that it would.


	5. Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I explain to Johnny my reluctance to turn to body modification and we grow closer. However, I find that closeness threatened once we are taken to the Aldecaldo camp and Santiago shows the Rockerboy something stolen by a spy in the Wraith camp.

Santiago was gone when I woke up. He had gone back to the Aldecaldos but on the sworn promise that he'd return with a vehicle for us to reach Night City in. I heard all this from Johnny, whom further elaborated by stating that they had spent most of the night talking about old times.

"Yeah," I remarked, sitting on the sandy ground in discomfort. Having no underwear now, I felt the dirt and pebbles against my ass, my short pink skirt having hitched up too high. I was further worried about small, possibly mutated bugs crawling up my most sensitive of areas. "I drifted off listening to all the gory details about the quintuplets in 'Sisco," I tersely added.

"Are you _jealous_ , Tweety?" he asked with a half smug grin.

"Ha! Hardly. I have worse things to be angry at you for, Silverhand," I stated, not willing to confess that if jealousy played a part in my mood it wasn't because of five blondes he couldn't even remember the names of but the one he had written numerous love songs for instead.

"What? Our little resumed dock in front of San?" he gave a short, dry laugh and I turned beet red from my recollection of being watched as I had been fucked and also incredibly turned on by the memory of how well Johnny had done it despite my humiliation.

"Yeah," I scowled.

"Listen, Tweetheart," Johnny Silverhand said lowly in his deeply gravelled voice. "Santiago Aldecaldo and I go way back to when he was a roadie for the Samurai."

I blinked. It suddenly made sense to me why the man hadn't been shocked by finding the Rockerboy fucking a girl out in the middle of nowhere: he was probably very used to the sight during many miles spent on the road.

"You go that far back you get good blood and bad blood between you," Johnny continued. "And being out of commision for a few decades makes you unsure of which rose to the top, fathom? But Santiago likes his women and he likes his sex. I thought if we gave him a good enough show, he'd be more than willing to help get us out of here regardless of past wounds."

I glared at him. "What's the bad blood?"

"What's the most likely thing to get in the way between two friends?" he asked, confident that I'd figure it out on my own if given a chance.

I gave it a few seconds of thought until the image of Johnny behind me and Santiago in front flashed before my eyes. "A woman," I answered.

Johnny nodded. "Girl by the name of Rogue. A solo. The only girl Santiago was obsessed with because she'd never give it to him. San's got Jainas everywhere but Rogue was the only one that did it for him because she wouldn't, got it?"

I nodded now too. "She was giving it to you though, right?" I had heard stories of the beautiful, strong and tough mercenary. She ran a club called the Afterlife now, was a fixer and her mixed feelings for Johnny Silverhand had become mythical. It was often rumored that she'd shoot the jukebox out if anybody requested a song that even slightly resembled a Samurai classic.

"In spades," Johnny said. "Only problem was..."

"you _didn't_ love her," I finished.

Silverhand nodded again. "Men like me don't give their heart away often, Tweety Bird."

"Only once," I said, fighting back tears so he would not see into my own heart, which suddenly agonizingly sympathised with a woman I didn't even know. "Only to women like Alteria Cunningham: _Perfect_ women."

Johnny was gazing down at me and I knew I had lost my battle; the tears were starting to come. However, witnessing them sliding down my cheeks, the man only saw the half truth behind them and not the rest, thank God.

"Perfection can be bought. Alt had the funds, time and will. Ready to tell me how come you never had any alterations done now, Tweety?" he asked. "If you're white collar you could have afforded a few."

Incase he delved deeper, grateful for his distraction in the physical realm instead of journeying to what lay deeper inside, I sighed and volunteered the reason I had told no one before. "When I was younger I used to hurt myself," I confessed. "I scratched, hit, cut and bit myself. I stabbed my thigh with a pen once."

The Rockerboy did not give any indication if he was shocked. He stood as still as a statue and just as unreadable. I looked at my knees suddenly, though, unable to remain gazing at him incase, when he decided to come to life, it was with an expression I didn't want to see. "I'd do it when I was either really upset or not feeling anything at all. For the first, it was because it didn't seem right that I should be feeling so much pain inside where it couldn't be seen...I wanted to see it...to have some _proof_ of it. To make it material you might say..."

Johnny walked a few steps towards me, until he was a foot or two away and squatted down. I still couldn't bear to look at him but started to focus on my pudgy hands folded on my lap instead. "And for the second, it was because I just wanted to feel something at all. I returned to a physical type of pain."

"Why'd you stop?" Johnny asked and I finally raised my eyes to meet his. I didn't need to ask how he knew I no longer hurt myself. He'd seen my whole body, after all, and its lack of fresh self inflicted wounds.

"I bit myself one day. I was primarily a biter...my right arm usually. I almost took a chunk out of it once. I saw my flesh all gathered together, the skin white and raised, the blood and tissue underneath. And I saw my body suddenly as something that I had hurt. My body, well, it was me but something separate too and the realization that I had hurt something other than myself devastated me. It sounds odd but I felt sorry for my skin, for my own body. It was something my soul had been entrusted with, it was innocent and I needed to care for it. Instead I had only betrayed it."

Johnny blinked but I still couldn't read in his intense eyes what on earth he was thinking, if he thought I was strange and as weird as I felt saying the words at last. But they _were_ true. It was simply how I had felt then and continued to feel ever since.

"I couldn't hurt myself after that," I stated, still peering into his eyes. "Any body sculpting, cyberware and alterations seemed like a violation following that epiphany."

"What do you think of me?" Johnny asked without emotion. "What do you think of my chrome arm?"

I held it and brought the silver hand to my face, resting it against my cheek. I kissed the palm. "It's beautiful, Johnny. You needed it. You'd lost yours in a war you should never have been fighting in the first place. I can understand that...but to hurt the body for some ideal of beauty...I don't understand that."

For a few seconds, we continued to stare at each other until he pulled his hand away. I thought he was going to become angry with me, shout and defend Alt Cunningham but instead all he did was gently grab my right arm. Rolling up the sleeve, his eyes rested on the red blotchy bit of skin on the back of the wrist. He slowly lowered his head to the scar and kissed it tenderly and with respect.

When he raised his head, it was to see my smile and the fact that my tears had multiplied in number. Our eyes stayed focused on each other until the sound of desert sand being scrunched under speeding tires was heard and we turned our heads in unison to see Santiago Aldecaldo driving towards us in a shining and beautiful Porsche. It was silver in color with a red stripe at the back with khaki green.

Johnny stood and hastily forgot about me as he called out loudly, "YOU FUCKING ROADIE STOLE MY PORSCHE!"

Aldecado brought the vehicle to a stop right before the remains of the fire Johnny and I had sex in front of last night. If it hadn't died already, the resulting tidal wave of sand would have successfully put it out.

"I was keeping her for you, choomba," Santiago stated, tossing the Rockerboy the keys. "Gotta put miles on her to keep her in condition."

"Sure you don't have Alt hidden away somewhere too?" Johnny asked and my heart crashed and burned like the plane full of Arasaka collarboys and girls. "Maybe you take her out every once in a while to ride too."

"No," Aldecaldo remarked. "Besides, you know, you were the only output with the proper key for that beauty."

"FUCKIN A!" Johnny hollered.

And after the crash, my heart went directly to hell.

* * *

I sat in the back seat of the Porsche, all cramped up, while the testosterone choombattas dominated the front. Although, I didn't know for certain, I felt that Santiago was far less warmer to me under the sunlight than he had been under the moon. While I tried to tell myself it was the fact that I was now _clothed_ , I couldn't help but feel that the reason ran far deeper and was potentially more dangerous.

"When you return me to my people," Santiago stated. "I think you need to see something."

"No deal. I need to get back to Night City," Johnny declined. "Start looking for Alt's ghost. I'm no longer on ice and I'm not getting any younger."

"I think it would interest you, choomba," the nomad said somberly.

Johnny turned and studied his friend and former roadie and then placed both hands on the steering wheel, flipping his silver thumb up and shrugging. "Okay."

I could not look at both men simultaneously but seeing Aldecaldo throwing me a quick sideways glance, I was soon certain that it was mirrored by my famous Rockerboy companion. As Johnny rammed his foot down on the pedal, I was no longer certain if I had done the right thing by climbing in the back or if it wouldn't have been safer for me to jump out of the car right there and then and take my chances with the Badlands.

* * *

The camp we were taken to looked more or less as I expected. As Johnny stopped the car a few feet from the entrance, we exited the Porsche and walked to the center of it accumulating a crowd along the way. The Aldecados welcomed their leader back with affection and respect. It was clearly written on the various faces of his fellow nomads how deeply their love ran for the man. Men, women and children alike looked at him with devotion. From the moment Johnny and I stepped out of the Porsche, they greeted us with cautious curiosity, prepared to defend their leader foremost even at the expense of their own lives.

"GIVE THIS MAN YOUR ATTENTION!" Santiago shouted amongst the various tents, ramped up automobiles, motorcycles and other refuse and collected odds and ends. "THIS IS NONE OTHER THAN MR. JOHNNY SILVERHAND; THE MAN US OLDTIMERS HAVE SPENT CENTURIES BORING YOU YOUTHS WITH THE TALE OF HIS LEGEND, MUSIC AND HEROICS! GIVE HIM YOUR ALLEGIANCE, OFFER HIM YOUR RESPECT BUT SAVE YOUR LOVE FOR HE CAN NEVER GIVE YOU HIS WHILE THE GHOST OF ALTERIA CUNNINGHAM STILL LIVES!"

Another pain tore my heart while the Aldecaldos began to murmur in awe. I watched as Johnny ate up the attention and admiration like he would during an encore of one of his historic concerts. He lifted his arms up and the cybernetic one suddenly looked like Excalibur to me: an item that had given a king his glory.

No introduction came for me and I took it as another ill omen.

"Tweety, can you wait out here with the others?" Santiago asked coming to me as his people swarmed around Johnny.

The hair on the back of my neck rose in warning but I could do little else than say, "Erin. My name's Erin not Tweety. It's Erin. Johnny just calls me that for some reason I don't know."

"Erin like the Emerald Isle..." the leader stated poetically. "Only that's _green_ and you're in _pink_ and not _yellow_ like the bird..." he stated. He then leaned closer to my ear and whispered, "One wonders if you shouldn't be dressed in _black_."

Parting, he looked into my widened eyes but I saw only kindness in his own. He was warning me, I understood, giving me the chance to run if I needed to. For years he had been a Samurai roadie. No doubt, he was well acquainted with Johnny Silverhand's infamous temper.

"You making moves on my input?" Johnny suddenly asked, almost jealous and suprisingly an inch away from us.

Santiago stood straight and looked at me in strong sympathy. "No. I just thought she needed to hear something. Now can we go and talk in private, Johnny Silverhand?"

Johnny lifted his arms in surrender and followed his friend into a big beige colored tent. The Rockerboy turned and looked at me and I tried to remember every single line on his face and curl of his lips before he hated me. "Now don't fly away while I'm gone, Tweety. We've got 7 more jams to perform between us."

He winked at me and smiled and I thought of how much I would miss it.

The two men disappeared into the tent and started their damnable conversation.

"Are you Johnny Silverhand's agent?" a woman holding on to a small child asked. She was looking at my disheveled but still too formal suit and trying to figure out how I belonged to the larger than life man of myth.

"No," I replied despondently. "I'm just someone that he knows."

Somebody that he _knew_ , I corrected myself inside of my head. Soon I'd be out of it, I knew fully well. I didn't know how Santiago had discovered that I was an Arasaka worker. Probably word from the Raffen Shiv had reached him. The war between the Aldecaldos and the Wraiths was infamous. Spies probably existed in both tribes. It was my bad luck that one had probably returned with information about the Arasaka corpo in the pink suit.

I looked out at the desert knowing I could always start walking back to Night City now and spare myself Johnny Silverhand's wrath. It was what Santiago had been hoping I would do when he had given me fair warning.

But I couldn't.

Staring out at the Badlands, I tried to think of what had been the exact moment under its merciless sun, over its scorching sand floor and surrounded by a repugnant smell I'd gradually become used to, I had fallen in love with Johnny Silverhand. He had been like the stink, I supposed. Slowly, I'd grown accustomed to him until it had finally become a state of fondness and then unfortunately love. It probably had a great deal to do with the sex. All of those hormones and his hands, lips, tongue and dick knowing just how to use my inexperienced body. But it had also had a lot to do with the Rockerboy's infamous charm and the glimpses I'd seen of a halfway decent person not completely buried underneath it all. His kissing my scar had been the final ingredient in an intoxicating love potion. His doing that ensured that I was standing there daring to suffer his hatred because I had to willingly gamble on the chance that I might receive his forgiveness.

"TWEETY BIRD!" I heard Johnny Silvethand's famous voice shouting and turned around to see the man standing in the tent's entrance, a look of pure hatred on his red and livid face. In his hand, I saw several photographs of a plus sized woman going out of the Arasaka building and coming out in a pink suit, on her way to be escorted to a place in the Badlands that she would never truly reach.

I looked to Johnny's face again and saw how there was no mercy contained in eyes that only saw me as an enemy.

It seemed whether I took a risk on Arasaka or its own personal adversary, a rockerboy named Silverhand, I was always destined to come out the loser and fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> Sigh. I'm still doubtful if you'd like any of these stories I've written. I have been reading some more of your interviews and I have to ask you something...
> 
> Have you ever read something that doesn't make you look like a very intelligent man?
> 
> I mean, even your *kink* is intellectual. Here, I was, happy you liked smut and it still has to infuriatingly be stories that seem high on the literary scope.
> 
> The closest thing we have in common with our reading tastes, so far, is Phillip K. Dick. And I haven't even read a lot of his stuff. I'm a Stephen King girl. Dean Koontz amazes me. Charles Dickens makes me want to hug him. V.C. Andrews entertains me. I still read the books I loved as a kid and current children's and young adult novels occassionally and bask in their inventiveness, joy and beauty. And I make no apologies for it.
> 
> I was home schooled due to my kidneys being not fantastic in my youth. My teacher was this great woman from India. I loved her. Still do. But she frowned upon the books I enjoyed. She only enjoyed books she could call brilliant. I was honored to have her use that word on me sometimes. But I could never forsake my own love of those authors frowned on because they are popular. They are my family.
> 
> To reference Lex Luthor, I am perfectly content to try to unlock the secrets of the universe by looking at the ingredients on a chewing gum wrapper. Chewing gum wrappers are often very pretty. They have great artistry to admire. And you have a piece of gum to chew on even if you don't succeed in making any more sense out of life.
> 
> And I am proud of my beloved authors. King and Koontz have written some of the most beautiful lines ever published. They touch the soul and make hearts break even as they make them jump.
> 
> I guess, plot wins for me. And the more fantastical, grotesque, otherworldly, comical, outlandish, fanciful, macabre etc...the more it draws me. Things that can't be found in real life.
> 
> Even if that sometimes includes things like happy endings and true love.
> 
> With most literary novels I find myself wondering why I am reading something most people experience in every day life. It feels like the going ons on my street and I've never been one to pry into my neighbours' personal affairs. And most of the time, I fear, the author is completely aware they are trying to write for intellectuals. And pretentiousness annoys me just as much as hypocrisy does. Give me an author whom knows they aren't going to win an award or be accepted by a literary circle.
> 
> Not that I don't enjoy a highly acclaimed novel. I can and do. I can enjoy both worlds and hop between both and consider myself the better for it. But do you, Keanu? Please tell me you can.
> 
> Have you read "Velocity" by Dean Koontz? A great read.
> 
> "Observatory Mansions" by Edward Carey? Complex and moving.
> 
> Have you ever read anything just for fun? Please tell me again you have! It's like Dorothy on "Golden Girls" telling her Russian cousin to read Vanna White's bio because it was just "a hell of a book." Maybe you'd be happier if you did.
> 
> If you don't read for entertainment or for some sexy thrills I doubt you'd like these stories and I have wasted close to a year of my life and over 700,000 words on them. Because these *are* for you. I give them to you, relinquishing my rights. These are my love letters each and every single one. But what worth is a love letter if it is written to someone whom would see it as being beneath them? If none of these would touch you, I'd feel like the last line in Leonard Cohen's "Coming Back to You":
> 
> "I've got to have your word on this or none of it is true,  
> And all I've said is just instead of coming back to you."
> 
>   
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3
> 
> P.S. I *do* believe in happy endings and true love, no matter what I typed. I just doubt I'll find either for myself.


	6. Blowing the Joint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny Silverhand blows off some steam in the Aldecaldo camp before getting blown himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that chapter summary is just lewd. I couldn't resist. I have several oral sex scenes planned in this series during the next few weeks. Last week it was in "The Man of Tai Chi" entry. Now it's the "Cyberpunk 2077." 2 more set after this.
> 
> But up next I'm working on the next chapter of "Across the Fiery Desert..." because my sleep test is on Saturday.
> 
> Coincidentally, the chapter for this features Johnny's Porsche which is in the news today. And tomorrow his Funkos come out, I hope! :D <3
> 
> Edit: just saw that the Funkos are delayed till the 21st. :/ <3

The sun hanging over the Badlands glared down in full force on Johnny Silverhand's rage. It had been resting in its place in the sky for no more than a few hours but it felt as if it was blasting down in anger all of the heat it had given for millennia on the miserable world. I stood, looking at my only lover and wondering what horrible creation was man that it could go from such caring tenderness to violence barely contained within minutes. Johnny's arm of flesh kept flexing, and I could see the muscles tensed, strong and wanting to be used to strike me or wrap around my throat and release some of its fury. In the cybernetic hand, he still held the photos which had betrayed my connection to a certain damned company to him.

"What the fuck are these?" he demanded. "Who do you work for?"

"Arasaka," I replied, feeling as if all the desert sand had wound up in my throat.

At that one word, the Aldecaldos began to whisper and curse amongst themselves, until it became the only wave in a wasteland.

The photos fell out of the chrome hand and Johnny looked about ready to commit murder. He came rushing towards me and I knew that his fist, the artificial one not the softer one made of flesh, was dying to meet my face. I was sure that it would and even Santiago seemed convinced of it, but Silverhand stopped himself from hitting me, preferring instead to come within an inch of my body (the same one he had enjoyed already for three docks) and glower furiously down at me in pure unmodified animosity. "You lying little Meat..."

"You would have killed me if I had told you," I defended. "Or left me on my own to die! Arasaka used me too; they sent me on a job as a distraction, never thinking I'd be coming back!"

He looked at me from my head to my feet, studying carefully the pink suit that lay in between. When he grasped one of its lapels, Santiago came forward, afraid of what his friend would do, and placed a hand on Silverhand's shoulder. "Be careful, Choomba," he tried to calm the ready to explode Rockerboy down. "Remember many years have passed; things have changed and people always need to survive. Never hate a lamb that was given to the same slaughter."

"Monkey, you mean," Johnny spat in contempt, his eyes never leaving mine. "She was just a little monkey out on a monkey trick...for Arasaka. The slaughter ain't the same, hombre."

His eyes roamed my body again as he forcefully let go of my lapel. His silver fingers brushed momentarilly against my breasts, without intention. I saw him staring at them then and I could tell his thoughts went to us having sex, remembering just how intimately he had become familiar with them.

This seemed to set off a new flash of anger within the man and he lost it. His silver hand flew out but it did not strike me as I had thought. Instead it went to the back of my head and the hair that he had always professed an admiration for. Gathering it in his metal fingers he held it up, bringing my large body about two inches off of the ground by it. The strength in his cybernetic appendage was undeniable. I could feel it was equal, in its way, to the Porsche, which had driven us to the group of nomads, the same ones whom gasped at the sight of the Rockerboy dangling his chubby companion effortlessly from his hand.

I wanted to cry out, to scream in agony, but bit my tongue instead, part of me feeling as if I had earned the violence committed against me while the other half felt defiant enough to not let him see the pain that he had sucessfully caused by his soldier like brutality.

"I PUT MY COCK IN AN ARASAKA COLLARGIRL!" he screamed into my face, enraged, his spit coating my cheeks, nose, chin and forehead. "I FUCKED CORPO SCUM!"

This one fact was driving the Rockerboy mad: that he had been sleeping with the enemy. An enemy that had stolen Alt from him.

My feet swung in their now flat shoes and the tears finally began to fall. The pain was tremendous but it was not their sole cause. I knew then from seeing his regret that I had secretly enjoyed every second of our jams together even though they now were making my first sexual partner absolutely livid.

The man whom had witnessed our third one now approached Johnny, his own piece of metal flashing under the intense sunlight. Only this was not a part of his body. Santiago Aldecaldo held a knife to Johnny Silverhand's beautiful melodic throat and pressed it closely to the skin. "Let her go, Johnny," he demanded.

The man, however, refused to and I felt my scalp beginning to burn and become numb from being left hanging for so long.

"NOW YOU FUCKIN', HOTHEAD!" the leader shouted and Johnny finally consented.

I fell to the desert floor, my legs having collapsed instantly under my body, having lost their feeling too.

Johnny leaned over and peered into my wet eyes. "I'll let her go all right: back into the Badlands. Let her drag her lying, corpo ass back to Night City on her own."

"The same one you never tried out, at least," I whispered to him.

His eyes almost blinked but he stopped himself. "Yeah. Good thing too, Tweety Bird."

Standing straight, he turned to walk away. I saw his foot preparing to kick some dirt at me but at that point my hand had gone to brush away a strand of hair behind my ear. It was the same arm which bore the scar he had kissed minutes before in the desert. Seeing it stopped him and he only could turn his back completely on me and face the speechless tribe.

"THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR FUCKING WITH JOHNNY SILVERHAND!" the leader of the Samurai shouted at the audience.

Rising to my feet, I shook the dust off of the pink suit which had saved me for a while, and stared at Johnny Silverhand's fine backside, believing that it was to be the last time I would ever see it in person without having to pay an outrageous amount of eddies for a concert ticket.

"Can you point me in the right direction?" I asked, my voice deceptively steady despite the emotional and physical pain I was feeling.

"Don't tell her," Johnny said, without moving.

Santiago glanced at his friend before pointing to the left of the Badlands behind me. I peered into his face, trying to discern if he was telling me the truth. Then the nomad nodded and I bet my life on the fact that he was.

I turned around and started walking away alone.

* * *

About thirty minutes later, I was still walking and suffering. I was too devastated and tired for tears but found myself only stopping once to tie my hair back. It kept falling in my face and only served as a reminder of Johnny Silverhand and his hatred for me. Having no tie to use, I wrapped a group of hairs around it at the back. It wasn't perfect but it would have to do.

A few minutes later, stumbling, I heard a car coming up behind me and turned to see none other than a certain Rockerboy driving my way. Its silver was shining in metal glory and its red stripe looked like a bright red gash. I fully expected Johnny Silverhand to run over me when he finally reached where I was. I was shocked when he only pulled up beside me.

My next belief was that his intention was for me to have to watch him driving off to Night City without me.

This guess died to as he lowered the passenger side window and shouted out, "Hey there, pretty lady."

I looked around to see if there was anyone else nearby he might be referring to.

"I'm talking to _you_ , Tweety," he said, removing any doubt.

"Yeah, but _why_ are you talking to _me_?" I asked.

"Because I'm about to tell you to get into my ride," he added.

I stopped in supreme confusion and stared at the man through the similarly halted Porsche's window. "You were about ready to kill me back at the camp," I countered.

He rested his hands on the steering wheel. "So I've got a fucking temper. I was pissed at the start. I'm fond of you, Tweety. You want to hurt me, betray me with my enemy. It's that simple. Then I got over it. Especially, when you looked at me with those big, sad eyes of yours."

"Was that before or after you held me up by my hair?" I inquired folding my arms across my chest.

Silverhand stared at me unfazed. "Like I said, I was fragging pissed. And all the Aldecaldos were watching. If they found out I let you off easy, even though you're an Arasaka corpo, it might have made them think a few decades on ice had made me soft. I didn't want them to get any ideas, Tweety. I thought you'd understand."

"My scalp really appreciated it," I retorted.

"About as much as your feet will if you don't take me up on my offer," Johnny Silverhand countered. "Besides you still owe me seven docks."

Sighing, I looked out across the desert. Mad as I was, I knew to refuse him was _mad_ in a completely different way. I quickly got into the Porsche and saw him smiling at me arrogantly. He knew he'd won again and was enjoying the fact as much as being behind the wheel of his 77 Porsche once more.

We'd only been driving for a few minutes when I saw his free hand going to his trousers and undoing his fly. "Speaking of which," he said, pulling out his cock.

"You want me to blow you? While you're driving?" I asked in surprise.

"Yeah," he said. "I can concentrate with your lips wrapped around it. Believe me, no big deal."

I looked down at the penis lying in his lap, looking inviting and expectant and gulped. "I won't be that good," I explained. "I've never..."

Turning his head, Johnny eyed me with amusement. "You never put that nice mouth of yours to use on some stick shift?"

I shook my head.

"I get that first too, Tweety? I'm honored," he commented and I looked down.

After a few seconds, Johnny stretched out his hand and cupped my chin, raising it so I instinctively would meet his eyes. "Come here..." he coaxed.

Denying him when he was looking at me so warmly, and when his voice was low, deep and soothing, wasn't really an option. My lips were on his as soon as I slid across the seat. Johnny's hand grasped my neck and rubbed it, making me melt from the wonderful sensation. Gently, slowly, he pushed my head lower towards where his cock was waiting. I kissed his chest all the way down, until it wasn't fabric which met the sensitive surface of my lips but rather something warm, fleshy and smooth as velvet. It made my lips tingle and felt wonderful in a way I hadn't expected. My tongue emerged to feel the unique texture of the cock as well and Johnny's hand let loose my hair again. He ran his fingers through it then as I took his member into my mouth and began to explore it even better.

His touch was so tender and careful as he started to stroke my head, that it was hard to believe it belonged to the same individual whom had held me up by the same hair with his dangerous cybernetic arm. Maybe it was because he was truly sorry for the act that his fingers were so loving and gentle during my first experience of giving oral to him. Or maybe it was because it was my first time doing the deed at all. I'd never know unless there was a second time, I thought with longing.

The palm of the Rockerboy's hand clasped the top of my head while it was moving in his lap. In the beginning, my tongue decided to make some swirlish revolutions around the mushroom head and I felt the beast coming to life at the shy movements. Its response gave me confidence and I continued more bravely. I was tasting Johnny Silverhand and enjoying what there was to savour. A few light suckles and I let the stiffening penis lie against my tongue while I moved both it and my head back and forth.

"You're...good for...not having done this...before," Johnny mumbled his compliment but I could feel the real praise filling my mouth.

The fact that I was pleasing him made me aroused pleasuarbly also. With every sound the Rockerboy made, I fell further into my own sexual bliss. The throbbing of my clit was heralding a flooding of cream from out of my cunt and I lay across the front seat of the Porsche sucking on that also leaking, hardened piece of Silverhand, mesmerized. I was growing hungry for the organ and it was willing to satisfy that need.

We were gliding over the Badlands desert floor, the vehicle bestowing us with a ride as smooth as the cock inside of my mouth, while I gave Johnny head and he drived as effortlessly in his rapture as if my mouth wasn't surrounding his dick and feasting on him.

However, as his moans were deepening and I knew he was close to coming, we both received a rather rude awakening.

Johnny slammed on the brakes suddenly but grabbed my body and head to prevent me from hitting the Porsche's steering wheel, dashboard or floor. I, in turn, refrained from biting down in shock but kept the unspent member safe and unharmed inside of my mouth. We came to a stop as hard as I had left Johnny's cock, the blow job brought to an abrupt conclusion.

"What?" I asked sitting up, precome and saliva falling from the corner of my mouth. I followed my lover's eyesight to a line of six various nomad vehicles set up in a long line before us.

They weren't just any nomads, however. The harsh modifications which had been done to the rides and the crude graffitti adorning them betrayed that they were Raffen Shiv. The conviction garnered strength from the boistetous and loud calls of the drivers, many of whom were dressed like the three men whom had helped in escorting me almost to my destination before they had decided to drop the ruse and try to rape and eat me instead.

"They're Wraiths," I said, sitting up fully, the pressure between my legs becoming dull in my terror.

"Looks like it," Johnny Silverhand answered.

If they were the Wraiths then that meant most likely that the man leering at the forefront, his clothes obviously fashioned from the skin of humans rather than that which was animal or true cloth was Dogkiller.

Their leader.

It also meant that we were in trouble about as big as the erection I had left underneath the steering wheel.


	7. Braking Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny and I take on a small group of Wraith on our way to Night City.

"JOHNNY SILVERHAND," standing on top of a defiled and no doubt stolen Galena, Dogkiller began to shout out, his voice even louder than the revving of the engines surrounding him. "YOU ARE NOT OUR ENEMY! OUTDATED CYBERPUNK THAT YOU ARE! ROTTING PIECES OF ROCKERBOY FLESH PUT ON ICE FOR DECADES ARE NOT WORTHY OF OUR ATTENTION. YOUR TIME HAS COME AND GONE. YOU MEAN NOTHING TO US ANYMORE."

"Thanks," Johnny said underneath his breath.

"WE WANT THE ARASAKA COLLARGIRL! THE ONE WHOM LED TO THE DEATHS OF OUR BRETHREN!"

The Rockerboy placed his head outside of the window. "FROM WHAT I HEAR, YOU EAT YOUR BRETHREN!"

Dogkiller suddenly offered a frightening smile. "AND THEY TASTE GOOD. AS YOU WILL TOO." We watched the Wraith's leader crawl in through the window of the Galena and join the cry of its engine loudly with the others. "YOU HAVE NO LOVE FOR THE CORPOS! THROW US THE PIG!" Dogkiller made one last attempt at persuasion.

"SUCK THE GHOST OF SASAI ARASAKA'S COCK!" Johnny shouted out.

"WHEN WE'RE DONE WITH YOU YOU'LL WISH YOU NEVER THAWED, YOU FUCKING FRED," the younger man screamed, negotiations finally over.

Two souped up motorcycles, from the ends of eitherside of the line, began to drive towards us as Johnny put the Porsche in reverse.

"You could just give me to them," I offered in fearful sacrifice.

"What with you owing me seven docks?"

"What I just did didn't count?" I asked with a wry smile, the taste of the man's precum still lying on my tongue.

"Nice try," Johnny said with a cocky grin. "It would only have counted if my seed hit your uvula on the way down your throat, Tweety."

I looked out the windshield, trying to avoid him reading my eyes and learning that I wanted to live long enough to experience that sensation too.

Silverhand spun his Porsche around, his hands effortlessly working the wheel that had been in the possession of the Aldecaldos' leader. Sand was sent flying before the approaching hog riding Shivs as Johnny placed his foot down forcefully on the gas pedal.

Bullets were being sent to hit the Porsche like hail under the Badland's sky and I mused over how the only type of rain the area outside of Night City could offer was always lethal.

"Trying to make it back to the nomads?" I asked the man behind the wheel.

"No," Johnny Silverhand replied. "I'm trying to make them _think_ that I'm scared."

After seemingly driving ahead for a few minutes, the Rockerboy suddenly put the silver vehicle in reverse, leaving behind one biker whom had started to flank us and hitting the other one, whom was behind straight, with full force. The impact made the biker fly over the top of the Porsche and to the ground before us, where Johnny found it amusing to go full speed forward again and run over the fallen man. The Wraith's body made the car jolt and I bounced in my seat.

About to fasten my seat belt before my companion made anymore makeshift speedbumps, Johnny shook his head in disapproval. "We need you loose and free, Tweety. Look in the back and take your pick. They mostly don't require cybernetics. See? I was thinking of you."

Warmly happy and following his instructions, I saw the back seat of the car was littered with an arsenal he had undoubtedly received from Santiago. Not being one to tell a black water pistol from a simple hangun, I grabbed what ever looked largest and sat back in the seat. I was in time to see Johnny reaching out through the Porche's window to grab the shoulder of the other biker, pull him from the motorcycle and ram his head mercilously into the rearview mirror. I saw it coated in blood as the Wraith was dropped to the desert floor.

Johnny looked at me and I looked at him, seeing his erection still standing up like a biological stick shift. He looked at the gun I had chosen and stated, "Big girl fancies the big gun; is that's why you like me so much, Tweety?"

I offered him a smirk. "Not really. I just needed something, I thought would cause the most destruction."

"I understand," the Rockerboy said proudly. "Just like I did between your pretty, round legs."

I ignored both the comment and my cunt's fond memories to ask him what he wanted me to do next.

"Shoot it out the window," he replied, turning the car around once more to head towards the four remaining Wraith engines. "Don't aim, don't care, just shoot."

As the silver handed driver pushed the car full throttle towards the Raffen Shiv, I tried to shoot out the window, while remaining safely inside, but was having extreme difficulty. The gun was too heavy. Only when I knelt and stuck my body half out of it could I managed to shoot the dumb thing properly and I prayed to God that the velocity with which Johnny was driving, the recklessness of the remaining Shiv and the huge gun in my hands would prevent me from being hit.

Bent over practically, I felt my ass exposed and aimed right at Silverhand while he was casually firing outside of the driver side window.

A hummer with the words "Shit Eater" spray painted in neon green on its black, dung covered hood was heading for us and as I pulled the trigger of the massive weapon in my hands something similarly large flew out from its barrel and struck the ride on that same hood, sending pieces of both the message and the shit flying everywhere while it exploded.

"Nice," I heard Johnny Silverhand say and thought that he was referring to the fact that I had hit and demolished one of our foes.

" _Not too bad for a beginner,_ " I thought with a satisfied nod.

Then I felt Johnny's hand grabbing one of my butt cheeks and squeezing it in appreciation and I knew that my bit of violence hadn't been the thing to impress him in the end. The hand released the fat orb of flesh and I felt his fingers trailing up and down the presented crevice between the two mounds.

"A burger with mayo...always did love those. Both kinds," he remarked, feeling lower to where presumably my vaginal lips were peeking. "Did you get this wet from just sucking me off, Tweety? I'm flattered."

He collected some of my cream on his fingers and I heard him licking it off from them before returning to collect some more.

"JUST DRIVE AND SHOOT!" I demanded, as I felt myself getting turned on again and more liquid oozing out.

He gave a short sharp laugh and then pulled his cybernetic arm back inside to rest on the steering wheel. "I'll do the former but the last one you seem to be handling pretty well, yourself. I'll just sit here, drive and offer you my support."

In this case, the support the Rockerboy intended to give me was his hand still fooling around with the sensitive area on my backside while I had to try to concentrate and aim. I managed to shoot the front wheels off of a Firebird and watched it spinning out of control before us. Meanwhile, Johnny was still having fun playing with my large bottom as he moved his Porsche tactically out of the way.

"Johnny!" I moaned, getting bothered and very hot from the man's exploration.

The Firebird crashed into a ridiculously modified Makigai Maimai and I sent another item that resembled a small torpedo into their now crashed remains. Both instantly exploded into more flames and Johnny hollered in excitement. "Yeah!"

Seeing Dogkiller ahead of us, sitting there watching his followers be decimated one by one, Johnny Silverhand sped towards him, only to watch as the man quickly drove his Galena to his left and then away from us. "For a dog killer, his bark is worse than his bite, the Rockerboy remarked. "There the fucking Shiv goes running with his tail between his legs."

I was only half listening to the man, incredibly aroused from his artful manipulation of me while his own attention was divided by watching the enemy's flight.

"Johnny..." I cried out, dropping the gun to the car floow, while still feeling my companion's touch on my large backside. "Please...please...I...I..."

Dust billowing out from behind the Raffen Shiv as he departed, leaving the handful of followers whom had joined him to bleed out or burn on sand as cruel and uncaring as he was, Johnny created his own cloud of dirt by stopping quickly.

"Speaking of tail," he said lustfully and climbed on to me from behind. I was still half outside the window as he slipped in easily to my soaked vagina, his still hard cock granted easy access.

"Oh Johnny!" I cried again receiving his dick with warm and wet welcome after believing I'd welcomed it for the last time the previous night only a few minutes before.

"Tweety," Johnny moaned, burying his face into my neck and hair.

A kiss was given that though it only touched my skin went straight to my heart and throbbing, twitching privates. Johnny bumped me from behind while I grinded myself upon his hot member. When he slipped out before either of us had come I was distraught to the point of whimpering but luckily he spoke before any small sound of disappointment could reach him.

"Turn to face me," my lover commanded.

I was flipping over like a coin on the Porsche's front seat while still half out its window in the beat of my clit. And there was Johnny, spreading my legs and coming inside of me. Hands made strong by cybernetics and years of fighting and playing guitar, he ripped open my shirt and pulled down my bra so that my tits were bared under a Badland heaven that had only viewed them in the dark before. Johnny pushed his face into them, making my cunt burn alive with ecstasy. I geld him closer into my bust and stroked his hair befor my hands grabbed his strong back to help push better.

Johnny was pushing too, licking the globes of my breasts.

"Mmmmm," I cooed in delight.

"Were you gonna miss my stick shift?" Johnny mumbled. "Every single _fucking_ inch of it?"

"Oh yes!" I cried, feeling my walls wrapped around all those inches and trying to urge it to spill deep within me.

"I was gonna miss your trunk," he replied. "And these."

He started to suck, slowly on one nipple and thrust a little more forcefully. I could feel him all the way inside of my womb and I started to throw my head back in bliss, my curls hitting the Porsche's door from the outside.

"So, tell me, Tweety...Am I a good driver?" the Rockerboy asked, suddenly grabbing a tit in each hand and giving them a squeeze and turn like they were wheels.

"YES!" I answered.

I was panting and feeling the urge to urinate, the herald for my orgasm.

"I like you too," he confessed, still pushing and pushing deeply inside of me. "You're a good ride. One of the best I ever had, you know that?"

At the words of praise, I cried out in frenzied orgasm. My opening was clamping down on Johnny's penis while we both continued our movements in response to each other. As Silverhand shouted out, his own climax having finally arrived, I saw our sweating bodies moving on the front seat of the Samurai frontman's Porsche similarly cramped in a small place, like dick within cunt, but deriving satisfaction despite the fact.

Once more, Johnny's head was clutched to my overly large chest and my head was thrown back from the delight of his kisses and his face making contact with my tender skin there. I wanted to hold him there forever, to my breast and to my heart, not wanting him to leave but know that once we reached Night City he would be one step nearer to his Alt.

Though I had him once again it was only a matter of time before he was taken from me to be with his true love.

When my eyes eventually opened, dazed in afterglow, they landed on a pair of dirty boots standing beside an old Arch Nassare motorcycle outside of the car. Following them slowly up the body, my gaze eventually came to rest on a familiar grinning face.

"Heard you might be in trouble," Santiago Aldecaldo stated. "Came to see if you needed any help. See you made out just fine though. Glad to see you made amends. Always a pleasure to see you two _together_."

The Rockerboy removed his head from my snow white mountains and looked at his friend. "Thanks Choomba," Johnny said all calm and cocksure, his cock lying inside of me successfully spent.

* * *

Santiago accompanied us out of the Badlands. Occassionally, I'd stare out the window and study him in embarrassment. Twice now he'd caught Johnny and myself in the middle of a jam. That he was coming to Night City made me frightened that he was hoping to stumble upon us going at it for a third time.

My lover, the Rockerboy, glanced over at me in amusement. "Don't worry, Tweety," Johnny Silverhand reassurred. "Rogue's the real flame that draws Santiago to Night City. He's tired of watching us and wants a piece for himself. He's going for one last chance at what he never was given."

Remembering Rogue's own history with Silverhand, I studied the driver and felt jealousy suddenly creeping into the heart underneath my pink suit and now buttonless shirt. "What are your feelings about seeing her again?"

He shrugged. "Not much. We were lovers and partners. I've had many of either."

"But you only ever had one true love," I stated.

He nodded. "That sticks, Tweety."

Staring at his handsome profile, I could agree.

"HERE SHE COMES AMIGOS!" Santiago cried out. "THE CITY HERSELF!"

While the leader of the Aldecaldos accelarated his bike, going towards the city at a pace that beat even Dogkiller's escape, Johnny skidded the Porsche to a halt and we stared at our destination in shared yet wary and bitter awe.

The skyline was startling of Night City. Never having left her unsafe safety, I had never been offered a view of it before, especially with the sun whom had joined Johnny and my own trek through the Badlands setting behind it. Now it looked as if it was a huge ball of fire being devoured by a city of smaller lights consumed by their own jealousy.

"Next step the Afterlife," Johnny Silverhand stated, starting the Porsche and resuming our journey. "Makes sense."

"Why?" I turned and asked.

Slamming his foot down on the gas, my temporary Rockerboy replied, "Because we're stepping into hell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> I'm still very tired. I went to get my CPAP machine. But the friend and neighbor whom drove me there got mad at me for taking thirty minutes to get the item and hear the instructions. I thought that was relatively fast. My sister got mad at her though, which I am grateful for.
> 
> Then when I got home, before bed, the CPAP wouldn't turn on! I couldn't get it to stay lighted. 
> 
> So I have to go get a replacement tomorrow after trying to explain it to her by phone. She was nice but kept thinking I wasn't pushing in the cord hard enough. I was! I even got my sister to try it! It wouldn't stay on for her either. Maybe I could have explained it better via an email. I'm not great on the phone. Except *sigh* the card she gave me with her email only had the first half of her email address listed. :/
> 
> Not a great two days. I hope and pray tomorrow is better.
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3


	8. The Afterlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny and I return to Night City, where the Rockerboy reestablishes his flirtations with Rogue, owner of the Afterlife, and where I make three new acquaintances in an alleyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be posted yesterday. But my CPAP machine is making my eyes leak. Last night, I took some Benadryl to try to combat it but it made me sleepy and unable to check this. So here it is now.
> 
> And my eye is still leaking.

As we drove into Night City, I kept glancing over at Johnny to try to see what his reaction would be to the rebuilt city he used to know. In return, I kept asking myself how he was to know the desolation that had happened to the metropolis while he was locked up in a cyrotank out in the Badlands, not even having seen the photographs of the devastation as I had when I was in school.

But I kept right on giving the Samurai my glances regardless.

Ones that he did not fail to notice.

"You expecting some big reaction to write for your own memoir, Tweety?"

"Maybe," I replied, settling into the Porsche's passenger seat, one which still bore a mixture of both our bodily fluids.

"Don't be," Johnny Silverhand stated. "If you think I'm gonna stain my pants over a reconstructed cesspool, you've been too long up in those towers they probably rebuilt first for all those Arasaka corpos."

My eyes searched the skyline and found the building in question, the one where I had slaved away for years, all for nothing, and where Susan Abernathy had ordered me to my assumed death.

"There she is now, I take it," Johnny said, following my line of vision. "That's where my little birdy was sent out to meet me."

His voice was rough like the dirt floor of the desert we had left behind, so different from the smooth, if sometimes potholed, street of Night City we were now driving down. Yet it was sensuous and brought out goose flesh on the body he had taken for his plaything, making my skin as rough with pleasure as was his gravely voice.

"I was sent out to die," I said, looking out the window to the plaza and hoping he didn't see the rise of color to my cheeks.

"But you saved me instead," Johnny stated.

"So, why am I the one paying you with sex?" I retorted.

"Maybe it's the other way around," Johnny said with a lascivious grin. "And I just swindled you as badly as Araska."

"Then I'd still just rather have the eddies," I returned, knowing it was a lie.

The Rocker turned his gaze back on to the road and the cityscape. "None of this impresses me, Jaina. But if your heart's really set on it, how about this?"

The Rockerboy feigned a look of exagerated shock at the bright lights and reconstructed, yet oftentimes, already returning to a state of decay structures and I found myself smiling inspite of myself and shaking my head at my incorrigible lover.

As Santiago led us to the Afterlife, I realized that there were many places in the city that I was far from familiar with. I preferred to stay inside my safe little sanctuary in Wellsprings. I hardly ever ventured out but was mainly only familiar with the different divisions and places in Night City from the talk of my co-workers and the media. The Afterlife, a former mortuary turned bar where solos gathered together to find or conduct business and relax all at once, could be pretty dangerous from what I had heard. But that was expected. When a group of mercenaries were all together, things could go loco real soon. But I had also heard that Rogue kept things completely professional. She rarely tolerated those whom did not abide by her rules and greenhorn solos, fixers or runners were not tolerated if they were not interested in building their own respectable reputations. Brawls also only occurred out of a need to vent and for fun.

Or when Rogue heard someone playing a Samurai record.

When Santiago pulled over to a lot nearby to the Afterlife, he left the motorbike parked there.

"You have a seed?" I asked him as Johnny pulled his Porsche in close behind.

"Course. I'm not having anway steal mon _dulce paseo_?" he asked and stroked the Arch's body like she were a voluptuous woman. I could see why the Nomad had been popular with the opposite sex from that sensual touch and wondered, not for the first time, what he hoped to accomplish with Rogue. I hated to think of his heart being broken as mine would surely be by his friend.

"How about my baby here?" Johnny asked, stepping out and almost instantly earning a few interested gazes from a gang of loiters in the lot. "Is she equipped?"

Santiago looked at him with mock outrage. "While you were away that car was my own special girl. I made sure that she had the finest treatment; that included upgrades to her security."

"So I can leave her here and she'll be waiting when I come back?"

"Just like the last time, Choomba," the Aldecaldo confirmed.

We walked for a while until Silverhand stopped when some graffiti on a wall caught his attention.

"They're all over the city," I informed him, knowing it would go straight to his head.

Together we stood and stared at the words _ **"Where's Johnny?"**_ asked on the gray brick wall that was crumbling. A fairly young SINless had passed out in front of it, unaware that the answer to the graffiti he was lying next to was standing right before him.

"Are they?" Johnny turned and looked at me from over his shoulder with his usual proud grin. "Well, I'm right here; no more need for them to ask."

I stared at him, wondering how long he would be "right here" with me and trying to keep the love I held for him secret and unseen by his eyes. He was beautiful, strong, horrible, arrogant, clever, stupid, sad and hopeless all at once. Would the famous legend even allow me to remain in his atmosphere once Alt Cunningham had been returned to him? I doubted it. And I feared that if he ever knew I loved him that I would only ever be another weapon he could use, like the cybernetic arm he was known for.

"Better get moving," I said, brushing past him. "We'll end up in another afterlife altogether if we linger too long in the streets."

I tried to catch up to Santiago but found Johnny Silverhand surpassing me swiftly. I was given an opportunity to watch his swagger and fine back and ass walking ahead of me and let myself enjoy both views while his gaze was aimed forward and not backwards at me and while the Rockerboy was still in my life.

At the Afterlife's, entrance we were greeted by a man built like an armoured truck. His muscles were covered by fashionable clothing but he could obviously take any five normal Night City citizens at a time, let alone a singular one. He glared at us all approaching but Santiago in particular. "She won't like this," the man stated. "Not after last time. I've got orders to cut your balls off and make a braindance out of it so she can relive it herself.."

"Always a pleasure to see you too, Emmerick," the Nomad returned, as if the bouncer had just offered him a wonderful compliment. "But if that happens, I'd rather my fine Rogue have the honor."

"Only way she'd ever touch them," Johnny stepped forward to remark.

The man guarding the door's eyes widened to almost comical poportions. "You brought a fucking Silverhand exotic here?"

"Modified?" Santiago said with a laugh. "Not a chance. I bring my sweet Rogue the real deal, Bronson."

"You're fucking Johnny Silverhand?" Emmerick Bronson spat.

"No," the Rockerboy replied. "I am Johnny Silverhand and I do all the fucking."

The bouncer stared in awe. "I can't tell if I should let you in or if Rogue won't only fire my ass but flatline me."

"You'll never know unless you do it," Johnny mused.

Heeding the advice and his own curiosity, Bronson stepped aside.

My two male companions strode in and I was allowed entrance only because the bouncer hardly seemed to notice me. I was a nobody, only momentarily a somebody due to the company I kept but little else. Once the leader of the Aldecaldos and the legendary Rockerboy abandoned me, I would return to being just another loathed collargirl.

The sound of riotous laughter and enthusiastic raised voices greeted us Badlands survivors, along with some grimy country and western song.

"There are three rooms to the Afterlife," Santiago explained. The Antechamber, the Crypt and Hades. They grow progressively worse as you go. Hades is filled with the vets and the solos who have faced the worse and intend to give it too. That over there is a side exit," the man pointed towards a door near the bar where a woman was mixing up drinks. "You need to get out in a hurry, that's your choice."

"I'm not leaving until I find some information about a certain cyberghost," Johnny stated, stalwartly.

"That means you're going straight to hell then, Silverhand," a female voice said. "And funny...that's where I thought you were."

All three of us looked up to see a woman, older but still extremely beautiful staring at Johnny in contempt. She had straight, lovely long hair and wore so much shadow and mascara around her striking eyes that they seemed like colored stars in the night sky.

"Rogue," Johnny said, and I heard that tone in his voice again when he was after something: rough like gravel but smooth enough to entice. "Just dropped in for a dose of my poison and some information about Alteria."

Looking into the fixer's eyes, seeing the way she flinched at the mention of Cunningham, I saw that the attraction to her own specific poison was still strongly there beneath the rancour. Seeing the Rockerboy again had done her addiction no favors.

"Claire," Rogue shouted to the woman at the bar. "This patron pays five times the eddies for what he requests. And make sure you spit in it besides."

The woman tending bar, nodded in understanding.

Johnny walked up to Rogue until they were an inch apart and he looked down at her in the way that always made me melt. From this distance, however, seeing it used on someone else, I could clearly see the tricks the man used to get what he wanted and how he was willing to play everyone and everybody for his one ultimate goal: his reunion with Alt, the love of his life.

"You want to get rid of me quickly," he stated, touching her cheek with the back of his silver hand and I could see Rogue's head swirling with a thousand sense memories from the touch. "Then you lead me to Hades."

The woman parted her full lips and I glanced towards Santiago, whom was as forgotten as I was, in time to see him part his own for a quick second, wishing he could kiss his former partner.

"Done," Rogue said, trying to be strong but obviously once again defeated by her prodigal ex lover.

* * *

The residents of Hades looked at Silverhand and Santiago with welcome but at their pink suited collargirl companion with contempt. I knew I would not have lasted five minutes in the separated room of the Afterlife if not for the men, whom were my protectors.

Johnny's resurrection elicted disbelief from the younger solos, while the older ones, many whom knew him, were convinced simply by talking to the man that he had come back to life. He told them of waking up in a cyro tank in the Badlands decades after supposedly dying at Adam Smasher's hands. But he failed to mention me, making it seem like he had encountered the Wraith by himself in the hidden lab. Our catfight with Dogkiller's boys was also recounted without the mention of me having blown a few away with the torpedo gun.

All the while, I kept quiet as my companion in the Badlands renewed acquaintances and spread the word of what he had come looking for. I listened to the discussions and watched as Rogue and Santiago shared their own conversation, the fact quite obvious that the head of the Aldelcados was crazy for the woman. Johnny, on the other hand, hardly paid me a second's worth of attention and I sat their like some fifth wheel on his Porsche, even though I was technically only the fourth.

What made it all even worse, was that I was not a drinker so I could not get wasted enough to be numb to it all.

Suddenly somebody thought it would be funny to risk playing an old (weren't they all?) Samurai tune to see if, with the Rockerboy, himself, present, they could get away with it.

Rogue looked properly offended but then Silverhand glided up to her, pulled her to her feet and placed his hands about her waist, starting a slow dance.

They moved around the floor, the other guests in Hades making way for them. Johnny's feet obviously remembered how to move, despite years on ice and Rogue helplessly followed like a sheep trying to act all tough as she walked willingly towards her slaughter.

The room stopped in admiration of the two dancing exes while I rose from the table leaving behind a soda that tasted so stale it gave away how often it was requested at the bar.

Rogue and Johnny continued their slow dance in the middle of hell and I was transfixed in that way that you become whenever something causes you pain. Even though its taking your heart and making it into something that resembles Night City after the bomb had been detonated, you still find that your eyes can't help but look.

"So collargirl," I heard Santiago asking over my shoulder, aware of my suffering because it mirrored his own, if a little brighter for he had had years to grow accustomed to it while mine was just born. "I have a son, you know? His name is Trace."

"Do you?" I mumbled, watching Johnny's hand trail up Rogue beautiful ass, her long hair falling against her back as she threw her head back.

"Yeah...media man. Made quite a splash in the 30s and 40s... Still looks pretty good for his age. If you could forgive him for the altercations, I think he would like you. He's a decent man, my Trace. And I know that he would like you, Erin."

His message was clear. If you can't have what you want find something else. It had been what he had done when Rogue had continually rejected him, obsessed with her feelings for Johnny Silverhand. Forgetting was sometimes better and if you had someone else to forget with, it was all the better, right?

There was another message too, though. Johnny Silverhand will never be anything but a jerk. Find yourself a decent man.

But he was the jerk that I desired, I realized. And just like I could not alter my body and accept something that did not belong to it, I could not accept Santiago Aldecaldo's words either.

"I need some fresh air," I mumbled, as Johnny placed his head into the crook of Rogue's smooth, sculpted neck and kissed it.

My large body bumped into the Nomad's on the way out and I earned as many glances as when I had entered the room, a chubby too pink corporate blur, rushing out of the room because the man she had come with had traded her in for another older model. Some solos laughed while others remained indifferent. Claire looked at me sadly as I passed, but I could barely return her compassionate glance with my eyes filled with tears.

The air was warm outside despite night having long settled in and I rested against a brick wall, confused after my journey past all the stages of the Afterlife. Suprisingly, instead of crying, as I had planned, I wiped my tears away instead. They wouldn't help me out any. I was already damned.

The door opened again and Johnny Silverhand stepped out, having finally remembered me.

"You come out here for a back alley dock, Tweety?" Johnny asked. "That's a good idea. I'm feeling kind of in need of one after dancing with old Rogue back there.

I blinked hard and painfully.

"I needed fresh air," I explained, hoping the smoggy, foul smelling warm night breeze had dried the rest of my tears from off my cheeks.

Johnny came to stand in front of me, his body muscular and strong, a bulge in the front of his pants in need of attention. "I take it, along with your swearing off cybernetics, you don't pollute your lungs with smoke or your liver with poison either?"

I shook my head.

"So, what do you think of my ex?" he asked, knowingly.

"She likes to act tough but she's weak for you," I answered, aware of the tenseness to my voice.

First Johnny's silver arm shot out, as his cybernetic palm rested against brick to one side of my face. Soon it was followed by the other, trapping me in place before him. The Rockerboy then leaned forward, as close as he had been to Rogue when he had asked her to lead him into hell.

No.

Closer.

"Are you jealous, Tweety?" Johnny asked, his lips close to mine and his breath on my face like warm dew on the leaf of a flower vulnerable in an uncaring wasteland.

I could smell the scent of sweat from under his large, well muscled arms and could see the patches of hair under each where it had collected. It was sexy on him. Everything was sexy when it came to Johnny Silverhand and I could feel all the blood rushing to my lower half, wanting to experience him again.

Yet, instead of answering "yes," which surely would have led to his taking me up against the wall, all I could do to try to protect myself was say, "No, I'm worried you'll just use her like you use _everyone_ else."

Johnny's eyes went from my lips to my eyes and remained there, holding our gaze for an agonizingly long time, until he suddenly pushed himself away. 

The Rockerboy turned around and headed towards the exit.

"I thought you wanted to use one of your docks?" I asked, still aroused but with my output walking away.

"We're not in the desert anymore, Tweey," he said, opening the back exit door and returning to the Afterlife without looking back at me.

Just like with his former roadie, the intended message was not hard to understand:

_"I've got better options now than my only one isn't a fat piece of meat in the Badlands."_

I tried to convince myself, once again, that it was for the best; once he found Alt's ghost I'd be discarded anyway. Best to have the Rockerboy out of my life as quickly as possible. Now I could return to Wellsprings and Arasaka, where they would try to do one of two things: offer me money to keep my mouth shut or try to kill me themselves.

What a life.

One without Johnny Silverhand in it.

Tears came now regardless of how I tried to stop them.

"Crying...crying's good," a voice suddenly reached me in the darkness and I looked up to see three strangers staring at me from the shadows. They were dressed in goth clothing at odds with each other. One was in Victorian garb and another in black leather. The third, a girl, wore a collision of both. Their faces were deathly pale and odd looking, as if they were pieces which did not fit well together.

They descended on me, one on either side and one in front and before I had time to scream the man that was directly facing me placed a hand over my mouth. His face altered,opened and I saw a frightening construct, all teeth and horror lying beneath it. A genetically altered tongue emerged, three times the length it should have been and the man licked the tears from off of my shaking skin.

"Yes, tears are good..." the vampire said. "But blood is better..."

His face went to my neck, as I had just witnessed Johnny do with Rogue. But whereas that had caused me absolute emotional anguish, what the stranger now did caused me complete physical pain, that led to a darkness which I fell into willingly so that I could escape from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> I guess, it's fitting with that chapter title that I'm posting this today since it was the day my grandfather died many years ago.
> 
> I love him very much. He wasn't perfect, and my mom certainly would agree with that, but I loved him. 
> 
> When my sister and I were little, he would come to our small village and play with us. Then he'd need a breather so he'd go out and have a smoke. Then one of us would quickly go and find him to remind him that he wasn't getting any younger so he'd better come back in to play.
> 
> Playing involved tying him up this one time, while he was sleeping. When he woke up and couldn't move, he thought he'd had a stroke.
> 
> Once I drew a happy face on the back of his jacket. He walked through the mall not knowing why everybody kept smiling at him.
> 
> After my parents divorced, we went to stay with him. There was this horrible green shirt he'd wear that always foretold he'd be in a bad mood. So, then mom hid it so he couldn't wear it anymore.
> 
> Every noon, he'd sit and listen to the obituaries to see if anyone he knew had died. When they did, however, and we'd ask if he was going to the funeral, he'd reply, "Why should I? They aren't coming to mine?"
> 
> If he received a wrong phone call, and it was a nice sounding girl, he'd carry on with the conversation until she figured it out. He was quite the ladies man. But when he was dying and the nurse stated that, at least, he would be with his wife soon, he remarked, "Why do I want to do that? She's dead!"
> 
> Grandpa was also one of the few people the Church told not to come to Sunday services anymore. He kept fainting during them and distracting everyone from the Reverend's sermon. Of course, Grandpa mainly went for show anyway. By that time, he was in his eighties and had told us he had already heard them all.
> 
> Our neighbor and friend asked my sister and I if we ever remember him. It's a silly and frightening question, really because, of course, we always will. But why she thought we'd forget is disturbing. We remember those whom we have loved and lost abd we carry them around with us always.
> 
> But I know there will come a time when all those who knew my grandfather will be dead too. That's why I need to believe that he is with Someone now whom never forgets nor dies; that my grandfather exists with Him outside of time and memory.
> 
> And with his dead wife, my grandmother, too.
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3


	9. LeSade & Silver Fist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three cyber vampires take me back to their lair where I am injected with LeSade. However, a certain Rockerboy shows up to save me again and help me ride the drug out.

The music was what pulled me out of my unconscious state.

No.

It didn't pull me out as much as it dragged me out by my hair. Something, I found out was happening to me in reality, as well, and not just metaphorically.

My eyes opened and I was greeted with the sight of two vampires peering down at me, their cybernetically altered faces on full reveal. These two gang members I recognized; the rest in the room were unknown. Some had gone full blown in their transformations, long horrific teeth in elongnated faces hidden behind the false normal ones and eyes of crimson red; while others had settled for more pronounced teeth alone. Staring at them, I knew the difference depended solely on the money they possessed or their rank within the gang.

The room was dark and a song was blaring at a rate to make my eardrums bleed. I knew then that they had also had modifications done to their ear drums or that most of them dabbled with LeSade. The male vampire whom had bitten me had obviously only injected me witn a knock out drug or else the music would not have been causing me pain without pleasure. That was what LeSade did, after all. The drug caused a victim so much ecstasy during their abuse that they were practically begging for the abuser to keep beating them until they were dead.

Glancing around the room again, I saw the other spoils that had been collected earlier in the night. Men and women were being feasted upon and tortured. From their cries for more, and the blissed out looks in their dazed eyes, I knew it was already too late for them: they had been dosed with LeSade and would soon be sent to the real afterlife and not just the club I had been abducted from.

"NO!" I screamed and tried to struggle, only to feel the other two vamps, stamp down on my stomach in unison and remind me once again that my brain's signals hadn't been scrambled yet by the drug.

"Too busy here tonight," the girl vampire, dressed in the long black leather dress, trimmed with white lace complained.

"Far too busy," her companion, dressed in a black leather suit, chimed in.

"That's why were taking her to room tripnine," the Victorian vampire dragging me turned around and informed his friends.

"What's wrong with tripsix?" the girl complained.

"Everyone uses it," the man replied.

I struggled again but only received more kicks, punches, stomps and spit for my efforts. Pulled up a flight of stairs, I felt the edge of each step hit my ass painfully and found myself relieved, against my will, when we finally reached a room marked 999. Relieved that is until I saw the crucifix nailed to the wall, the iron maiden standing waiting in the corner with blood dried on its long sharp spikes and the large bed surrounded by several instruments of torture lying around it.

"She needs a change of clothing," the small groups leader announced as he finally let go of my hair in the middle of the room. "That pink suit is too corpo. It makes me limp."

Though I tried to get to my feet, his two subjects pounced on my large body and restrained me. Obviously on steroids or strength enchancers, they started to tear off the suit that Arasaka had instructed me to wear and I was crying and screaming for help as I was stripped naked and vulnerable on the torture chamber's floor.

"Why's we get a meat fatty?" the girl asked. "Why couldn't we have tried for that good looking guy with the silver arm?"

"Because," the leader spat, throwing a crimson and black laced bodice at us and a matching G String. "I didn't bring enough tranq for a male his size. This is the best we could hope for. Suck it up, you fucking Gonk!"

My humiliation still flaring, I tried to struggle as they dressed me in the sexy lingerie. When they had finished, the leather suited Vamp eyed my large breasts bulbously pushed up at the top and licked his fangs. He brought his mouth to the pale bulge of flesh and I felt his teeth sinking in when the leader shouted " DE STEER!"

De Steer looked at the other male in venomous hatred. However, his fear of the man must have outweighed his resentment for he backed away. "She's yours Vanguard," he hissed. "But we ask for what's left "

"Tie her to the cross and after you'll get yours too."

While the follower looked more pleased, the woman to my side looked dissappointed. "We don't get to use the nails?"

Vanguard shook his head. "She gasn't been given the LeStrade yet, Motley," came his response.

"Who needs it?" the female vampire named Motley said, grabbing my face painfully hard. "Why shouldn't she suffer?"

"The LeSade works best for us," Vanguard stated, taking a step forward and glaring at her.

She looked throughly pissed, until the man, grabbed her by her long white hair and then lifted her upwards into a kiss. Watching them, so well used to their outrageously long and frightening teeth, it was obvious that they had known each other a long time and had discovered how to fit each other very well. My earlier belief that she was involved with De Steer had clearly been wrong.

Not that the man did not desire the girl.

Seeing them occupied more with each other, and the only other vampire holding me back now vicariously living through the vampire's passionate liplock, I did the only thing that I could think of: I punched De Steer with my free hand, straight on what now substitued for a nose and then broke away, rushing to the door.

All three were on me again and I was screaming in anger, pain and fear as they brought me to the wooden cross on the wall across from the red satin sheet adorned bed.

"NOOOOO!" I screamed. "LET ME THE FUCK GO!"

Motley was taking care of the straps on my right wrist, De Steer the left and Vanguard the one over both my ankles.

"I KNOW JOHNNY SILVERHAND!" I shouted, expecting this might hold more sway over the gang members than my connection to Arasaka would.

The three vamps stood side by side infront of my halway crucified body and exchanged looks. I thought I had made some impression at last until they all began to laugh, a sound as unnatural as their horrific, monstrous faces. "You know a _ghost_?" the woman asked. "Johnny Silverhand is dead. And he was overrated when he was alive."

"He's more real than a group of fake VAMPIRES!" I shouted, angered over the jibe at my lover.

Their illusion offended, Vanguard reached out and grabbed his cohorts before they could rush towards me and make me pay for the intended insult.

"Give me the LeStrade," he ordered. "We'll make her _beg_ us to punish her."

My brain was flashing bright red alarms, feeling very much as it had when the Wraiths had been pursuing me in the Badlands. Only there was no Rockerboy in a cyrotank to save me this time. I wanted to beg and plead for them to stop, the thought of my will being taken away from me terrifying my soul more than the acts of rape and cannibalism that Dogkiller's boys had wanted to do. Then, at least, I would have been myself and not some joygirl made to want her own torture. The thought of losing myself was a death in itself. I knew, however, that they would not truly hear me any more then they had the loud music, the same horrible racket I could still hear blaring downstairs, the drum in it making the floor beneath my bare feet pulsate.

Biting my lips with my far less impressive teeth, I watched helplessly as De Steer returned with a vial from the side of the bed. He placed it in a port in his superior's neck until the vial was mostly empty.

Baring his teeth, Vanguard, the leader of the small subset of vampires, neared me, placing his head in the crook of my neck where he had bitten me already once that night. The wounds from his modified fangs still hurt and I whimpered, helplessly, not anticipating his reentry. "Don't," I said.

Laughing again, I felt his teeth enter me a second time, grinding them in to make it hurt even more. I cried out, feeling the LeSade being injected into my veins. And as it rushed to my nervous center and the brain which was waiting, I felt the pain turn gradually into pleasure. It was just as sharp a turn as Johnny could make in his Porshe and just as jarring. Though I was strapped in, I felt as if I was ejected out of the Porche's passenger seat without a belt.

Vanguard looked at me, my blood thickly coating his white teeth. "Now that feels better right?"

I felt the ground stop its manic beat and the music stop below us.

He grabbed my face and squeezed it tightly, his long nails digging into the flesh of my cheeks and causing my vagina to flood with its own blood and sweep me under in pleasure.

"Yes," I groaned.

"Good," the vampire stated, sticking his index finger into my mouth.

The lustful look in his eyes made me aware of one thing past my arousal.

He wasn't the Rockerboy that I foolishly loved.

I bit down on the finger and heard the vampire scream in pain, obviously less fond of the feeling than he forced his victims into being. Freeing it from my teeth, Vanguard glared at me in rage and I felt his hand strike my cheek, sending another blast of delight to my groin, as my brain interpreted it as something other than pain.

I cried out, voicing that joy and the sound clearly rang through the room and the suddenly very quiet building. Something that Motley suddenly seemed to become aware of."

"Where's the music?"

When the door burst open the three cyber-vamps turned in unison to see the figure walking in, his famous silverhand holding the gun that Eran Malour had designed especially for him decades before.

"Tweety only makes that sound for me," Johnny Silverhand declared, wearing his equally identifiable red shades.

De Steer rushed at the Rockerboy but Johnny shot him dead with a single shot to the head.

He did the same to Vanguard, whom was in the process of trying to plunge his fangs into my jugular. My abductor never finished his goal, though, falling to the floor by my feet in a lump of dead flesh, teeth, bone and cybernetics.

"VAN!" Motley cried, running to her lover.

Johnny strutted over to where I was tied and where the female vampire was cradling her dead output. "Go," he ordered.

"I'd rather be dead," the woman wailed in hatred.

Johnny aimed his Malorian at the middle of her forehead. "I get that."

He pulled the trigger and ended the surviving half of the vampire lovebirds' suffering.

"You found me," I said in a low and husky moan, the emotional pain I felt over Silverhand's reference to his pining for Alt registering as physical anguish and thus turned to physical ecstasy.

Johnny walked up to me, kicking the corpses away with his boot. "No, I _followed_ you," he stated, leaning towards me.

"You did?" I asked, looking up with widened eyes.

He nodded and rested his right palm against the wall. "Yeah. You think I'm not keeping my eye out on you? You're always in trouble...not surprising...a corpo meat like you."

His face was close to mine once more, just as it had been in the Afterlife's alley. We seemed to have never really left it, just the scenery had changed. Everything seemed so familiar, our lips hovering close to each other, our breath hot and sinuous like caresses and our mutual lust. "The others downstairs," I said.

"All saved," Johnny remarked. "With some help from Rogue and Santiago. They're just banging each other to get the last bit of LeSade out of them."

Dumbly, more focused on the nearness of Johnny's body than logic, I asked, "The vampire's victims or San and Rogue?"

"Who knows," Johnny stated, brushing my lips now with each word. "Maybe all of them...I was told you can only get LeSade out of the system by rough fucking."

I wanted him to kiss me, for the frustrating distance between our mouths to be closed at last, but instead he brought his own to where I had been twice bitten and pushed his teeth into it.

I called out in orgasmic glory, far louder than when Vanguard had done it, my clit dancing wildly between my bound legs and the part lower doing its own fitful action. Panting, I watched as Johnny Silverhand raised his head to gaze into my eyes again. His own gaze was guarded halfway with the shades on but still visible through the red.

"Please," I begged, my first coming under LeSade's influence having failed to satisfy me but only making me want more.

Johnny licked the blood from off my cheek with his wise tongue before he finally gave me the kiss that I had desired. While our lips were locked, and he kissed me rough enough to hurt in the best way, his hands grabbed the binds at my wrists and ripped them off with great force. The kiss ended only when we both were losing our breath. He went to his knees to undo the ankle restraint. But on the way down, he got distracted with my crotch. He ripped off the G string and bit my newly exposed skin.

"Oh Johnny," I murmured, feeling bliss making my clit swell again.

The Rockerboy must have seen it peeking out between the folds and he bit this too, making me come again with the same power as before. 

Ripping off the final binds, Johnny Silverhand picked up my large body and carried me towards the crimson bed. Whereas, De Steer had wanted to take a bite of my smooth, white breast, Johnny Silverhand actually did. His teeth created a mark and I looked at him in bliss but fear also that he would scar me, wounding the body, I had sworn to protect.

"Don't worry," he said, kissing the bite then, an act that did not bring about the same sensual arousal without pain. "Nothing to mark you. Just a little nip."

At the bed, the Rockerboy lay me down on that same bitten chest on the matress and prepared my body.

"What are you doing?" I asked breathlessly as he spread my legs and propped my ass up.

"Doing now what I didn't then," I heard his reply, alongside the sound of his belt being undone and his fly being lowered.

I felt Johnny Silverhand's rock hard cock at my ass' entrance but there was no fear this time as there had been in the Desert, only impatient desire. It felt too big, but wonderfully so poised at my virgin hole and I rubbed my butt against it, feeling my arousal still not answered.

Silverhand wasted no time. He pushed in hard and violent, making me scream as another orgasm hit from the now delicious pain. The penis filling and tearing, Johnny grabbed me from behind, clutching large handfuls of my even bigger breasts. "You like that, big girl?" he asked, biting my earlobe and starting the pleasure over again.

"YES! YES! OH, YES!" I cried as he started to dip his hands into the bodice and twist my nipples excruciatingly.

Johnny grunted in approval and continued to pound into me. I was shaking in his hands again within minutes. Unspent, he pulled out from me and forcefully placed me on my back. His hands were on my legs again spreading them very wide. "You up for more pain, pretty thing?" he asked, lacing the agony and horror of what he was planning to do to me with words of praise.

I knew I should say no, but it was useless now: my body was saying the more pain the better and as Johnny placed his fisted silver hand and arm between my legs, I looked down past my bountiful bust and tummy to look at it hungrily. "Give me what you're known for," I cooed in pleasure.

Johnny looked at me unsure for a moment, wanting it, possibly always wishing somewhere inside of himself to use his arm for love and not war, no matter how violent, but still hesitant. I wriggled my cunt at him, feeling so much natural lubricant coming out from me that my already used asshole was becoming even more wet. I used the toes of my right foot to stroke the cybernetic arm as if it were the Rockerboy's dick and I saw his real one dripping out a long stream of precum at my action.

"Oh my beautiful big Tweety, Bird" Johnny said, as horny as I was.

He pushed his hand into my vagina then.

It was blissfully damaging, stretching everything from its size and creating a few tears in the process. In awe, I watched it disappearing slowly up inside of me, revelling in the powerful agony of its journey.

"Johnny...JOH...JOHNNY!" I was screaming again in pure ecstasy as I felt the cybernetic fist working its way to my womb. It had started off cool inside of me but my hot cunt was warming its chrome very quickly.

Once reaching its destination, Johnny Silverhand began to repeatedly thrust his famous silver appendage up and down my canal, setting that same passage cradling it back to another bout of furious twitching. With his free hand Johnny was pumping his cock, obviously getting off on seeing my cunt devour his arm.

Slipping it out suddenly, he looked at the cybernetic proudly, ignoring the blood on the chrome and wires. He looked down at my slit, still hungry, and then to my face as I lay there in afterglow, my chest rising and falling, deeply. Crawling on top of me, Johnny looked down at my heaving chest and kissed each breast several times. With each one, I felt normal pleasure returning and sighed.

Johhny grabbed my breasts and nuzzled his head between them. My nipples tingled, and though I was tired from my repeated orgasms, when the man slipped his weeping member between my legs and pushed the throbbing cock inside, I welcomed it and did not protest even though I was aware where it had previously been.

Silverhand's pounding was still intense, driven by a certain violent need but this helped me burn off the last of the LeSade and I knew that I was safe with the man whom had saved me twice already. With his own loud cry now, my legs wrapping around his ass, the Rockerboy came and I felt myself reaching my peak once more too, coaxing out the man's release straight to the womb, which had proudly known his silver hand.

Afterwards, he fell beside me and scooped me into his arms. "Alt never would let me do that to her...I always felt like I needed to somehow but..."

I brought my lips to the cybernetic arm the ex soldier had gotten to replace the one lost in a needless war, and kissed it all the way to shoulder, neck and finally the Rockerboy's lips. I moved half an inch away to discover him staring at me in a veiled way.

"Maybe when you get her back you can persuade her to try LeSade at least once," I whispered.

"Yeah," Johnny said. Stroking my naked ass, his voice was as rough as the sex we had just had. "I'd like that."

And with all of the cursed drug out of my system, all that I felt then was pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> That makes two updates this week to have a certain tag. Both were planned practically from the beginning. Really if any of your characters earned that tag it was Donaka Mark and Johnny Silverhand. I hope you wouldn't be offended by it though.
> 
> It was nice to see you and Matt Kindt in the new video at the BRZRKR kickstarter page. It sounds like such an interesting story. I can't wait to read it next year! Well, I can because Christmas is coming up and I don't want it to go too fast. But I'm looking forward to it.
> 
> I think I came up for an idea of what I'd get you for Christmas. We'll see if I can come up with something else too, though. ;D
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3


	10. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny Silverhand and I return to the Afterlife and get a lead on where Alt's ghost might be. Meanwhile, I find myself feeling progressively unwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of Cyberpunk 2077 officially being released today, updating this fic was a no brainer. I'm not sure how well it will still hold up, now that there is a canon to go by, but I hope it will still work as an okay AU fiction, at least. 
> 
> P.S. All nudity is intentional in this story. ;D <3

I never found out if Johnny was just joking about San and Rogue getting it on with the other LeSade victims. The strangers were gone by the time we went down stairs together, me still wearing the sexy bustier that the vampires had dressed me in, but hidden underneath my infamous pink suit.

Johnny had spent a suprising amount of time cuddling me after our rough bit of sex. It took a rapping on the door to separate him from me finally, his having achieved a certain form of peace.

"Johnny, you rescue her?" Rogue's voice had come from the other side of the door. "Is the drug worn off?"

"ALL DONE!" Johnny shouted and bit my ear.

"Great, now let's get the frag out of here!" the woman had exclaimed.

The head of the Samurai was out of the bed and my arms in a heartbeat and I saw him wiping his arm off on the bed sheet as I had crawled out of it and started to redress. When I walked it felt odd but I tried to ignore the feeling all the way out of the Vampire's lair and to the Porsche and bike which were waiting outside.

When Rogue climbed on behind Santiago and grabbed on to his chest, I saw the look of love and joy on his aged face and after they drove past us, I glanced at Johnny and wondered if one day, after we had found Alt Cunningham, I would be like the Nomad myself: old and still waiting for stolen moments of closeness with the object of my affection.

Johnny caught me staring and I acted as if my gaze was accidental, climbing into his vehicle and still feeling a little strange.

* * *

Back at the Afterlife, Rogue announced that we could use the rooms she held in wait for more of her special clientele. Johnny made it a point to emphasize that his room would not be the same as mine and I thought that I saw the pleased look that crossed the woman's face. She showed us our rooms, deflecting Santiago's comment that he would be more than willing to make the sacrifice of sleeping next to her. I retreated to my temporary home, tired and mildly wounded.

It was a nice room, all things considered, but in my state of mind I could barely admire its decorative style. Inhaling deeply I ran a hand through my hair, grateful, at least, that I was alive and free from the vampires motives and hungers. I walked away from the door and tried to focus on another benefit of Johnny Silverhand's semi insulting request: It would be my first night away from him since I had met him.

I could use the time to think.

That was when the Rockerboy strolled into my room and spoiled the best laid plans of mice and woman.

He instantly took me in his arms, cybernetic and flesh, and held my large body, kissing me with his usual selfish energy.

I broke away and grabbed his upperarms. "Wait, I thought you wanted separate rooms?" I squeaked.

He eyed me with wry amusement. "Yeah, so Rogue wouldn't get jealous."

"She already knows you fucked me free of the LeSade," I retaliated.

Johnny's lip curled. "That was _necessity_. This is something different."

I felt hopeful until he added, "You owe me some docks. In her mind she'd equate it with prostitution and not _repayment_ and she might kick both of our asses out. She'd suspect something wrong if I specifically _asked_ to share a room."

My eyes rolled and I smirked, my hope dying a quick death.

A silver finger was brought to my chin and he let it run from the side and then up the cleft affectionately. "You're not exactly my usual type, Tweety," he commented.

"You said you'd been with big girls before," I reminded him.

He laughed. "Not your weight...not everything is about your fucking weight. I mean you being a corpo collargirl and a sweet little gentle one at that. I tend to like 'em a little more confident, bold and brassy. _Modified_."

"So why'd you come in here then?" I inquired with a sigh.

He stared at me, unanswering. I wondered then if he even knew the answer himself. It was obvious now that he was wanting some more sex. Maybe it all came down to our time spent in the desert. Right now, it was probably only intensified by the fact that I had let him push his silver appendage inside of me, something he'd been dying to do. I was suddenly his new favorite toy. He was like a child who had found a unique playground where he could do anything he wanted to. I subsequently found the alternate question pondered of how long it would take for him to get too familiar with the settings and try to find a new place to play.

 _"But he's here now,"_ I thought. _"Enjoy it while it lasts. Just keep remembering that fact."_

I was tired but I found myself grabbing hold of the Rockerboy's head. "Let's get it over with then, sex fiend," I stated huskily as I kissed him.

"Only making up for lost time," he quipped back before resuming the kiss.

Lips locked, we made it to the bed I hadn't even tried out yet. Silverhand fell on his back and pulled me on top of him, his erection a tower it was hard to avoid hitting.

"Slip yourself on it, Tweety," he instructed, undoing his belt and fly to free the fleshy structure.

My vagina was twitching hungrily again and I felt like a slut the way I wanted him so badly. Underwear down my legs, I played the part of good little girl and straddled Johnny, moving my body down upon the phallus. The entry was easy, but even though the man's fist and arm had entered me that evening I was still tight enough to cause the man immeasuarble pleasure by the lowly devouring of him. I saw it wholly confessed in his eyes and the naughty twitch of his lips. He was bringing me the same joy too, and I kissed his clothed chest in acknowledgement.

"You can go to town now," he said, lying back, his hands behind his head and lookimg at me as cocky as the part now contained within me.

Knowing what he meant, I began to move my hips, riding him like any out of date cowgirl. It was bringing us both satisfaction but the more the length traveled up and down, up and down between my plump thighs, I felt that something was _wrong_. Rolling my hips to further explore and experience that "wrongness" more, like the act of bringing a tongue repeatedly to a sore tooth. Johnny mistook my action for enthusiasm, though, and got more delight at his belief that I was going for broke on his dick.

"Let me drive now too," he stated and grabbed me, moving our bodies until I was on my back, underneath him. The act caused an almost blinding pain and I cried out.

His hand came over my mouth, mistaking my sound for orgasm, before I could tell him that something was wrong and that he had hurt me. I saw no malice in his blissed out eyes; he was only thinking of how loud I could get with my comings and that he didn't want Rogue to overhear. He was pounding harder and the pain and pleasure were both growing. Only I was no longer high on LeSade and tears were filling my eyes from the increasing sensation of ecstatic agony. Luckily Silverhand soon lost it and was ejaculating furiously. My relief brought me to my own orgasm and I was grateful that it was over and I had survived it.

When my lover pulled out, however, we both saw that his spent cock was covered with some of my blood. "You okay?" he asked, holding the member, shock edging his usual cool demeanor and making me feel even more anxious.

That it was his concern that made me feel off balance was a testament to how reckless our relationship was. It made me shy and embarrassed because it was so removed from his usual demeanor.

"I think so," I replied. "It hurt. We probably got a little _too_ rough before. Doing it so soon afterwards was maybe not such a good idea."

He looked at his cock again and tried to wipe the blood off, as if it caused in him a guilt as strong as my embarrassment. "I...I guess, I should get back to my room. If Rogue comes knockimg and all," he stated.

I swallowed harshly, shaking in the bed as he crawled off of the mattress, but felt much better when he added, "So then I can tell her to fuck the hell off, I'm sleeping."

* * *

In the morning, all four of us regrouped in Hades to once more try to find information on Alt's cyberghost.

However, our number soon turned to five as a man walked into the bar. He was handsome and older, with nice green eyes and the usual cybernetics and tattoos. Serious in nature, I pegged him as a media man instantly. Rogue let out a small almost pained laugh when she saw him and San went to greet him, throwing his arms around the newcomer, whom bore a strong enough resemblance to the leader of the Aldecaldos, to only be his son.

Santiago brought the man over to the table and properly introduced him. "Johnny, Erin this is my boy, Trace Santiago. Course you know Rogue already."

I glanced at the woman sitting beside me and thought I saw both like and dislike held in her eyes. _"Are you blind to it?"_ I thought as I looked to Santiago Aldecaldo. _"She doesn't like to be reminded about your lack of devotion."_

Johnny looked merely bored and I offered a meek "hello" before San told his son to sit down next to me. The Rockerboy looked upset then that he had chosen to sit with Rogue between us to avoid suspicion. Only when Trace revealed that he had news of a place that might know of the whereabouts of the disc with Alt's digital presence, did he look much happier and start to flirt offhandedly with Rogue again.

I watched the two ex-lovers in detatched pain until I noticed Trace studying me.

"You're a meat," he commented.

"Does that bother you?" I asked shyly.

"No, I find it interesting," he said truthfully. "A meat ex-Arasaka worker. They sent you as a pig into the Badlands?"

He was blunt but I knew it held no cruelty only the natural curiosity of his trade.

"Yes," I nodded, self conscious as I always was around the opposite sex.

"I'm getting some beer," Johnny abruptly said, pushing his chair back and standing. "You're coming with me, old _friend_ ," he said clapping Santiago Aldecaldo forcefully on the shoulder.

I watched Johnny's beautiful back walking away with his former roadie and friend and felt abandoned without wanting to.

"You found Johnny Silverhand in a hidden lab?" Trace won my attention again.

As I turned to him, I felt a surge of the pain that had never completely left since last night. I felt hot too; sweat was forming on my brow, but thankfully hard to see in the dimly lit bar. "Yes."

"I wonder what they were keeping him for?" the reporter asked rhetorically, his mind already working on the story.

"I...I don't know," I replied, feeling strong cramps coming. "I think...think I'd better use the washroom," I stated.

"Down the hall to the left, make sure nobody's doing it in there," Rogue directed. "I run a clean place here and have rules. Still rules are only viewed as challenges by a whole lot of people."

Nodding, I stood and tried to walk and not stumble to the desired room.

On the way, earning glances, I heard the familiar but muted voices of our party's missing men, apparently arguing in a corner of Hades. They grew louder and more discernable as I drew closer to them.

"She aint yours, Chomba," I heard Santiago say and was about to walk hurriedly by, thinking they were arguing about Rogue, when the next words made me stop.

"She ain't that media piece of shit that calls you daddy's either," Johnny Silverhand remarked. "What the fuck did you think you were doing? Sitting them next to each other? Tweety flew out of the Badlands with me and that's where she stays: with _me_."

My back rested against the wall and I both did and didn't like the way his possessiveness made me feel. Not liking it primarily only for the reasons that it made me feel so damn good.

"She's a sweet girl, Johnny," Santiago stated.

"I kind of noticed that already you fucking old Nomad." A beat of silence before Silverhand added in his usual crude manner, "I'm the one who tasted her first so I'm the one to know."

I blushed and placed my hands harder against the wall. Life with Johnny Silverhand was always like that: a simultaneous feeling of exaltation and exploitation. Being used and yet feeling like I was getting something precious out of it. But his reference to my virginity, which he had taken so suddenly, made me feel very small and vulnerable: Like I was some stupid canary in the mouth of a much smarter feline than Sylvester.

"And what are you going to do when you find Alt?" Aldecaldo asked. "What do you do with her then?"

No initial response. And my heart hoped for a second that the Rockerboy might make some big revelation that he might want to keep me inside of a cage inside of his life when he spoiled it all by replying, "Don't worry about Tweety. She knows the score and how I feel about Alt. We have an arrangement and she'll fly away on her own. But not with that media data pusher and not before I'm ready."

I grabbed my stomach as if my emotional pain was turned physical.

"But she should have someone to fly to," Santiago argued, and I felt a bead of sweat fall down my forehead. "You make a desert worse than the Badlands when you are through with them. I've seen it firsthand."

"Don't worry. Tweety doesn't love me...Let's just go and get the poison," Silverhand spat and led his friend to the bar, luckily without seeing me.

Feeling more ill than ever, I stumbled to the washroom and walked to the stall, ignoring a copulating couple, which Rogue had predicted. On the toilet, I cried out in pain, more sweat coating my face and dripping off. Wiping the front (the paper kept under lock and key and only offering a sheet at a time) I noticed that it came back red. Staring at the color and feeling sick, I stumbled out of the stall, past the couple in their orgasmic bliss, and tried to make it to the table.

Both Johnny and Santiago were back by then and all four non corpos looked at my approach. I looked to my lover, whom stood instantly.

My thigh felt hot and my hand dipped to it, too afraid to be modest. My palm came back red and I showed it to my lover, whom slowly shook his head.

"Johnny..." I whispered before another fierce pain struck.

Seeing me staggering, Johnny Silverhand rushed forwards. He caught me before I hit the floor, the last thing I felt being the Rockerboy's arms lifting me and holding me protectively as the Afterlife turned to black and I feared the time had come for me to fly away, before we both were ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu; 
> 
> I'm not exactly having the greatest of days. The fanfiction I wrote yesterday for the Little Rascals got me in trouble with my sister. I knew something was wrong but it only came out later last night. She doesn't like me writing sex. Well, that's not true. She has no problem with me writing sex as long as it's in stories for her.
> 
> I liked the story. It wasn't just a sex story. It was meant to be sad and thoughtful. If someone just gets that out of it then I failed in what I was going for.
> 
> And I'm so scared she'll get angry with me for writing these too. She doesn't read them. If she did I'd be in for a really big explosion and guilt trip. But you make me feel better and so does writing these. She knows how much pain I was in before...she saw it first hand. I don't want to stop. Not until I've tackled all of your characters and told the stories I need to tell. Then maybe I can make that final bow but not before.
> 
> And to make things worse, I got a bad review for my Zootopia fic. Someone bookmarked it as garbage and gave it 1 out of 10. I warned readers it was a crackfic and wouldn't make sense. But that doesn't sink in with some readers. And then they get *really* upset and I feel like a horrible writer. It happened with this fic actually too.
> 
> I am trying to think of you to help me. People are often so hard on you, critics and such. But you love acting so you keep doing it. You don't let that stop you. Maybe if I can remember that and hold on to it, I can keep going. That and because I love to write. I love the creation of stories.
> 
> But, I'd be lying if I said that I don't want you to like these stories. I know you can't like all of them but just one. And please let it be interesting veering towards good and not contempt and without thinking they are garbage or too filled with sex. See past that. Find some beauty in them, even just one. Please, Keanu.
> 
> So, I won't exactly mourn the day's passing, although I was happy to find out more about Cyberpunk 2077. And I'll try to grab your tail again and let you be my Timothy Q Mouse and lead me. You put your heart and soul into your work. That's what I'm doing too. 
> 
> But it hurts an awful lot when the effort, at least, isn't respected, doesn't it?
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3


	11. Trauma Deep Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wake up to Johnny Silverhand's guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short but I wanted to let everyone know I hadn't forgotten this fic and am still updating. It's just end of the year craziness getting in the way and some health issues.

Darkness.

Nothing new in Night City.

A shutting of the lids this time, the approach of black, my body's way to save myself from the experience of any pain.

All that I knew was that I had fallen into that void in Johnny Silverhand's embrace within the Hell of the Afterlife and I awoke in a room which was massively, blindingly _white_.

 _"It's just like in all of those old films,"_ I thought as I struggled to consciousness. _"Everything is white; too white. My gown is white, the bed, I'm on is too. It's almost all glowing."_

I was almost at peace in some strange way, feeling lost in as close to a snowy landscape that wasn't somehow drug or Braindance related within Night City. My head rested back on the pillow and I took a deep breath, thinking that heaven was very sterile but also kind of nice.

That was when I saw Johnny standing to my side and I knew it could not be heaven...

Johnny Silverhand would never be there.

The Rockerboy was looking down at me and his eyes seemed relieved because I was now awake but also still pained, like some sorrow was behind them scratching, digging, trying to get out.

"Tweety," he said and touched one of my long stranded curls lying on the pillow beside me.

"Are you okay?" I asked. That was my first thought, awakening in the room after my bleeding and my collapse: was _he_ all right. Nothing spared for myself. 

"You had an infection," Johnny informed, diregarding the question. His first thought: this is what happened to _you_.

That was how dangerously close we had become in the Badlands.

"My...my arm tore you from inside...fucking you after...after that and after we had...after I'd been...it was a bad idea. The tear kept growing; it became infected..."

His eyes, the same eyes I had come to love did not fill with tears. Tears were something that Johnny had steeled himself to a long time ago, a time long before I had even been born. Certainly the last ones he must have shed had probably been for Alt Cunningham. But he was sad, was _remorseful_ for what he believed he had done to me, forgetting about the LeSade in my system and my own desire for the pain and brutality of our lovemaking in the vampire's lair.

"The drug," I tried to remind him, taking hold of his arm made of flesh.

He shook it off, like my comfort was some bug encountered flying around the trash on the street. "I took what I wanted," he snapped. "Just like I always take what I want. The drug was an excuse. It must have been more than I even knew, though, because they had to..."

He looked to the space between my thighs and I suddenly felt frightened about what exactly had been done to me while I had been out and how much of my body there remained that was authentically me.

"They didn't do any modifications, did they?" I whispered desperately, taking hold more urgently of his arm. "I'm still nobody but me?"

Johnny looked at me almost tenderly. "No...no," he whispered, stroking my hair back. "You're still you, Tweety. That was the least I could do for you."

I smiled up at him, feeling suddenly like a small child with their father.

Looking into my eyes, Silverhand suddenly jerked away, seeing something in them which frightened him too apparently. He walked away from me then like I was suddenly someone he could not allow himself to be around. I watched him walk away from the bed and sit on the chair in the corner of the room, faw away from me, refusing to leave but also not lifting his head so he would not chance seeing me, a fact further aided when he brought his hands to his head and held it. 

I couldn't bear seeing him like that:

Guilty.

It was too drastically opposed to the Rockerboy I knew.

I swung my feet over the bed I was lying on, quietly, feeling where the Trauma Team had patched me up and wondering how many Eddies it had cost someone. Was it Johnny Silverhand whom had paid for it or had he tricked Rogue into doing it for him? It hardly mattered. He had been involved in some way, just as he had caused my trauma.

I stumbled to where my lover sat, tormenting himself. When my hand came to rest on his shoulder, he looked up, surprised that I had come to him in spite of my surgery.

"Get back in the bed, Tweety!" he stated, wishing to yell but unable to.

However, when I stood before him, as a woman and not as a child this time, holding him to me gently, lovingly and with forgiveness he found the strength.

"GET BACK IN THE FUCKING BED!"

He used his self hatred, I understood, so I paid it with my love instead.

His head came to rest on my stomach as my fingers now were the ones to stroke his hair and he accepted it finally as well; taking it, just as he always did anything he wanted. His arm wrapped around my waist and his mouth made the pure white gown swiftly wet. Or maybe his eyes had remembered how to cry, after all, I thought, all while holding him tighter to me still.

"Oh Tweety," he said and I lowered my lips and kissed the top of his repentant head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please. I know that there might be some new readers to this story whom won't be aware that this is part of a series I have been writing for over a year now featuring entries dedicated to Keanu Reeves' characters. I usually, these days, end them with a letter to Keanu that everyone can read if they want to. But this time, for new readers and old ones alike, I beg you not to read it. It's only meant for Keanu this time. Please, if at all possible, just leave it for him, although I doubt he will ever see it or enjoy it much if he does.
> 
> Dear Keanu;
> 
> I don't feel like writing you a letter today.
> 
> Only I have to explain *why* so that defeats the point.
> 
> I accidentally saw that in June you did a charity event: a Zoom meeting for the highest bidder which turned out to be $75,000 dollars. Not a raffle so everyone stood a chance. Just something that someone *wealthy* could afford, like the tier for BRZRKR where you could appear in the comic for $2500. 
> 
> $75,000, that's about my budget for 5 years. I could never afford that. And while I'm glad it was for charity, it all seems so contrarily discriminatory.
> 
> I comforted myself with this: I can't meet you or be in your comic but I can, at least, make you as happy as you have made me by writing these stories and showing that I know your characters and films. I thought you were happy with your film work. You used to say so. Why, even a few weeks ago, I read that GQ interview where you were touched by the interviewer having watched 13 of your films in 2 days. You ended the interview with this:
> 
> "And thanks for watching the movies."
> 
> And, so, I thought, "Good, maybe I can touch him like that too. Never physically maybe, but in an emotional sense, which means more."
> 
> Only when I tried to find out the winner of that charity contest in a perhaps masochistic way, I read you saying this in an interview only this month about being chosen the 4th best actor of the 21st Century:
> 
> "I hope people enjoy what I do,” the actor replied, bashfully. Reeves admitted that a few of his friends acknowledged him being on the list too, but in more of a “that’s cool,” head-nod kind of way. “If someone talks about my body of work or whatever and appreciates it,” he said, trailing off. He shrugged. “Nice is nice.”
> 
> “That’s about as far as it goes,” he continued, signaling that he’d rather jump under a moving bus to diffuse a bomb, Speed-style, than continue discussing the subject “I just roll up my sleeves and go to work.”
> 
> I guess, things changed in 17 years and now I don't believe that any masochism I possess converts into the emotional kind. I could have possibly have taken anything except for that. What the hell have I been doing for a year if you are so flippant suddenly about people liking and appreciating your work? What have I been pouring my heart and soul into? And, I will point blank tell you that you did NOT deserve to come in 4th place on that list. You are not the 4th best actor of the 21st Century! But you are damn well the one that means the most to me.
> 
> Although, now I don't know why.
> 
> Nice is nice?
> 
> I wasn't going for nice here. I wasn't going for a fucking interesting either. I was trying to touch your heart and steal your breath away. A beautiful...a breathtaking...If people deserve that just from shouting it out in the audience at you or writing it on a sign, certainly 900,000 words in a year and over 80 stories featuring 61 of your characters might deserve it too, I had hoped. But apparently not. 
> 
> And if you do read these and I haven't earned it yet with some of your finest characters, I seriously doubt I will do it with the stories dedicated to such prime characters as Stereo Teen and Thug #1.
> 
> So, today, even if it isn't warranted and you don't deserve it, I'm pissed off and hurt and I don't feel like writing you a letter, even though I just did. And if that wasn't how you felt you should have stopped and thought about it before you tried to be Mr. Modest for the press. Because you didn't just insult me, you insulted every single fan that gives a damn about your films. Say what you mean, damnit, and mean what you say. Because, right now, I am going to finish these stories because I believe in finishing what I started and I will still write you love letters because pain does not kill love & affection, even though it might be better if it did. But I have no intention to continue writing stories for this series if they only garner me your condescension, scorn or pity.
> 
> You see, I am well aware you don't owe me anything. But the simple truth is I don't owe you anything either. I was one man's fool once already in my life, I will never EVER be that again, even if I'm in love with you.
> 
> What happened to the man who was proud of his hard work and happy about people enjoying it? I miss that guy. These will have to be for him then in his absence.
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin


End file.
